


Vault 108

by blakunicorn



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4, Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Crossover, F/F, Femslash, Post-Apocalypse, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-06-26 12:47:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 45,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15663531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blakunicorn/pseuds/blakunicorn
Summary: Wasteland survivor Nora finds herself caught up in mystery and intrigue after meeting Regina Mills, Overseer of Vault 108. To uncover the truth (and possibly love), Nora will have to sift through secrets and lies and confront an evil villainess who'll stop at nothing to maintain her power.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Although this fic is a Fallout/Once Upon a Time (OUAT) crossover, notable characters/storylines are absent. (There is no Emma, no Henry, no magic). It’s pretty much OUAT characters dropped into the Fallout Universe. Let’s dub it the “UnEnchanted Forest.” 
> 
> Quick summary for those Fallout-ers not familiar with Once Upon a Time and vice-versa: 
> 
> Regina Mills: Also known as the Evil Queen from the Grimm Brothers’ Fairy Tales. The OUAT version of the Evil Queen is more sympathetic than the traditional stories. She’s a woman driven by loss and betrayal not by petty jealousy. No hating-ass mirrors in this story.
> 
> Fallout Universe/the Commonwealth: World destroyed by nuclear war. An apocalyptic wasteland populated by ghouls, feral dogs, slavers, and all manner of mutated man and beast. Only a remnant of survivors remain. Some above ground and others in underground bunkers known as ‘vaults.’ Survival is paramount and damn near impossible. Play the game. It’s awesome.
> 
> Nora: Main protagonist from Fallout 4. Reluctant hero type.

 

“There's another settlement that needs our help.”

“The fuck?!” Nora whirled around, panicked at the unexpected voice behind her. “Preston, what the hell are you doing in Diamond City?”

The Minuteman soldier frowned, producing wrinkles in his caramel-colored skin. “General, we've discussed this. Such language is unbefitting of someone of your station.”

Nora nearly bit her tongue in half, she was so pissed. But instead of smacking Preston like she wanted, the wasteland warrior opted for wrenching open the front door of her apartment.

“I’ll repeat. What are you _doing_ here Preston? I left you at the Castle and told you _explicitly_ not to contact me unless there was an emergency.”

“This _is_ an emergency, General. This settlement I mentioned—”

Nora cut him off before he could launch into his favorite spiel. “I don't care Preston! I don't care if there's been a kidnapping at this settlement or if super mutant are poised to attack.  I don't care if the food supply is low and turrets are malfunctioning. I'm returning from a long ass trip and I'm tired. I just want to eat some noodles, drink a little beer…”

Preston frowned at the mention of alcohol.

“… and get some sleep,” Nora continued.

“But General—“

“Stop calling me that!” Nora huffed exasperatedly and scrubbed a hand across her brow. “Look—I’m not an errand girl, Preston. The Minutemen should stop treating me like one.”

She sighed. So, so tired.

“I've helped you develop thirty settlements Preston. Thirty! I set up defense posts. I installed water purifiers. I even carted in couches and carpets for those hoity toits at Kingsport Lighthouse who claimed they couldn't survive without domestic amenities. I’m sorry, but I am _done_ playing prefect for the Minutemen. If your settlers can't manage even after I've given them laser turrets and metal armor then that's just too damn bad!”

Nora was exhausted. She’d just come back from a protracted mission with the Railroad where she'd nearly lost an arm in a botched explosion. She needed medical treatment and sleep. And those noodles.

On top of all that, Cait and Piper were still feuding about some nonsense related to the Brotherhood of Steel which left Nora in the middle and damn near friendless since she refused to pick a side.

All she'd wanted to do was come home, strip off her leathers, and have a long drink followed by an even longer nap. And Preston fucking Garvey had to ruin that for her with his hangdog expression and yet another request for settlement help.

“Sorry Pres, but I can't help you this time.”

And to accentuate her disinterest, Nora plopped down on her living room sofa and made herself comfortable against the lumpy material. She toyed with a fingernail as she pretended to watch a television set they both knew was broken.

Preston sighed, folding his arms behind his back as he used his most professional voice on his friend. “You're the General, Nora. People expect you to lend a hand when needed.”

“I’m _not_ the Gen—!” She exhaled a shaky breath. “I didn't sign up for this Preston. I admire the Minutemen and what your group is trying to do in the Commonwealth, but when I helped you out in Concord and later at the Castle, I didn't expect this to turn into a lifelong commitment.”

She scowled. Three years! She'd been doing this…“landlord shit” for three _whole_ years. Putting out fires at Minutemen settlements; training settlers; planting crops; rescuing hostages. She was tired. She was resentful.

Being the General had become a chore. She could barely complete one task before Preston assigned her another. Even when she tried to avoid the persistent leader (She hadn't been to the Castle in weeks and had ignored all radio transmissions from the Minutemen), Preston still managed to track her down.

“I understand that you're spread thin...” Preston acknowledged. And Nora could tell by his eyes—the softness in them; the way his eyelashes came down to cover the chocolate orbs—that he meant it. “The Railroad keeps you busy with synth liberation and there always seems to be some tech that the Brotherhood wants you to recover...”

He spoke of the Brotherhood of Steel without the usual bitterness. “You're an exceptional woman Nora. All of us see that and want you on our side.”

His eyes shone. Earnestness. His lips too. Always sparkling as if he licked them constantly. But Preston wasn't an anxious man. He was solid. He was good.

It made Nora feel like shit to turn him down. To refuse him when he worked so tirelessly for a military outfit that was ragtag and disorganized and damn near decimated. But, fuck, she was only human and she deserved a day off once in a while.

“Preston,” she said. More gently this time. But her tone still firm. “Give me a coupla days, alright? Maybe a week.” Her ears were still ringing from the last firefight. And her right arm burned like crazy from laser burns. She needed recovery time. “I'll follow up with you at the Castle. Check out this settlement then. Is it Greygardens again? I told MacCready not to build the shacks up that high. Did another settler get stuck on the highway overpass?”

“It's not Greygardens. And I don't think this situation can wait a week.”

He paced a bit to his right. His colonial duster crisp as ever. Neatly ironed and crisscrossed with ammunition belts.

“We received an emergency broadcast a few days ago,” he stated somberly. “From a vault.”

Nora's eyes widened and the battle-hardened woman leaned forward in her seat, suddenly alert. She ignored the faint twinge in her back and fixed Preston with a sharp stare.

Preston noted her reaction and nodded. “I thought you'd be interested. You’ve always enjoy a good vault-spelunking.”

It was an understatement. So far Nora had uncovered five vaults in the Commonwealth. She suspected there were more. The underground bunkers fascinated her. She'd been a resident of one once upon a time.

Sort of.

A resident or a hostage. She still hadn't decided which.

“Where's the vault?” Nora asked. Her mind already racing ahead. “How many residents? What's their emergency?”

“We have a location for the vault but nothing more than that. The broadcast simply states that they need help.”

Preston stopped pacing and fixed Nora with a serious look. “The broadcast wasn't encrypted so there's no telling who else picked up the signal. Raiders could be headed there even as we speak. Maybe even Institute remnants looking for a new home. That's why I need you to move on this immediately. I don't think raiders or the Institute would be as charitable with the vault residents as you.”

Ah. The reason Preston had tracked her all the way to Diamond City. This was a time-sensitive operation.

“Give me the coordinates,” Nora quickly decided.

God, she was sucker for this shit.  Three years of toiling in the Commonwealth had turned her into a hardened mercenary, but show her a person in distress and she'd jump out of a damn Vertibird to help them.

 _All that leftover sentimentality from being a civil rights attorney_ , Nora mused as she struggled to her feet.

Preston handed over a slip of paper. The location of the vault written on it in neat script.

Nora memorized the information before tearing the paper into bits, tossing the shreds into a nearby trash bin.

She sighed tiredly. Digging into her pockets for the caps she'd need to pay Dr. Sun to treat the burns on her arms. She could only hope the wounds weren't infected.

Preston's mouth twitched and he put a hand against Nora's shoulder. “Take a day,” he said softly. “The vault can wait that long.”

“Might as well press on,” she countered. Moving now to her storage locker so that she could replenish her supplies.

“You should probably take a companion,” Preston offered. “You don't know what you're walking into with this vault.”

Nora grunted. “Nick's on assignment. Curie's been working on some experiment and can't be bothered. And Cait and Piper are both giving me the cold shoulder.”

“Take Danse then. He fancies you and he's good with a gun.”

Nora blushed, remembering a shy kiss from more than a month ago. Danse smiling as he pulled back to search Nora’s face. His eyes shining; her lips aflame.

For a second Nora had trouble reloading her pistol. “I'm not taking Danse. He's in hiding. Can't be seen on the roads.”

Plus things were so awkward between them now. Since she'd rejected his advances.   _I’m damn near friendless at the moment,_ Nora though dejectedly.

Her weapons fit into their usual grooves against her armor and Nora slipped a few stimpacks into her travel bag. She added a couple tins of food to her load before heading for the front door.

“I'll let you know what I find,” she told Preston, as he followed her outside into the humidity; into the hustle and bustle of the Commonwealth's largest city.

“Be careful General,” Preston said. His right hand, again, coming to rest against her shoulder. “Come back safe.”

Nora could only grunt. Moving away from him—quickly—towards Doctor Sun's office.

They always told her to be careful. Preston. Desdemona. Maxson. _Be careful Nora._

At first she thought it was care on their part. Them worried about her well-being because they considered her a friend. More recently she'd begun to wonder if the faction leaders weren’t just concerned about her because they considered her an asset.

_Come back safe so that we can give you something else to do._

There was always another task. Another command. A brusque directive.

And she was so fucking tired of it all.

. . .

The mystery vault was located east, past Warwick Homestead. Near the water. It took Nora several days to reach the site and more than three hours to even find the entrance. There was brush to fight through and feral ghouls roaming about, hungry.

By the time Nora saw the glint of metal that marked the vault door, she was exhausted and irritable, and rather than press the intercom and request entrance into the vault, Nora kicked the front door. Hard.

It hurt. A blinding pain that shot up her right leg and made her see stars.

She swore out a loud a full thirty seconds before she realized someone was speaking to her.

“Step away from the door,” a stern voice barked from the intercom. A woman’s voice. Low and threatening. “This is private property. Any attempts to bypass the security door will be met with lethal force.”

“Uh...” Nora scanned the perimeter, looking for turrets or any other defense system. She saw none. “I mean you no harm,” she directed at the intercom. “I received an emergency broadcast from this vault. I'm here to help.”

“You're mistaken. I did not send an emergency broadcast--”

There was static. Followed by a protracted silence as if the intercom had suddenly failed.

Fuckity-fuck!

Had Preston given her the wrong coordinates? Was he mistaken about the vault’s peril? She’d wasted a trip. Three days of walking for nothing.

Nora was just about to move away from the vault entrance when the security door swung open. Whining loudly as the metal gears shifted, creating a passageway.

It was an invitation.

Nora glanced over her shoulder at the pond nearby. Brackish water, unmoving. Streaks of orange and gold created by a nuclear sun.

Then she stepped inside, her eyes tracing the deep lettering on the door as she passed: **Vault** **108**.


	2. Chapter 2

She was greeted by a security team in the vault anteroom. Two heavily armed guards in riot gear. The male guard’s face was invisible behind a plastic visor. A smaller guard—a woman—beside him; her eyes sharp in concentration. Her jet-black hair pulled into a tight bun.

Nora moved forward slowly; her hands up, empty. “You two the welcome wagon?” she joked.

Neither guard cracked a smile.

“That's far enough,” the woman guard instructed. And Nora paused in the entryway. Took a moment to catch her breath and survey her surroundings.

She'd seen her share of vaults the past few years. Almost all of bunkers had been in disrepair. Rusted walls and frayed wiring. The ghostly air of neglect and dwindling population. Even the well-managed Vault 81 had its operational issues.

But Vault 108 was pristine. The walls sparkled as if they were brand new. And there was the quiet hum of an AC-unit nearby. The smell of food in the air, aromatic and inviting.

If there was an emergency here, Nora couldn't identify it at first glance.

She turned to the guards. “I'm a little confused here...”

“Please save your questions for the Overseer,” the male guard interrupted. “She'll be here shortly.”

“Can I at least have a seat?” She was a bone tired.

The guard nodded and Nora dropped into an easy crouch against the wall. It felt good to be stationary after such a long walk. And the steady thrum of the AC-unit was hypnotic. Nora tilted her head against the wall. Closed her eyes and mumbled to herself as she waited for the Overseer to make an appearance.

She had so many things yet to do.

She had to find a way to get Cait and Piper to stop fighting; resolve their differences. Their feud was beginning to take a toll on her; erode their friendship.

And she needed to get a new collar for Dogmeat. Some kind of armor that would protect the pup when they were on the road.

And when was the last time she’d checked on Donny Kowalksi? The kid couldn't continue to live on the docks like that. Huddled in that crumbled shack while mirelurks hunted about.

And then was Danse. Who reminded Nora so much of her husband. The same build; the same eyes. Nora simply couldn’t handle the repetition.

_Nate._

Nora dozed. The fatigue finally catching up with her.

So when she finally opened her eyes—the sound of clicking heels stirring her—she thought she was dreaming.

A vision before her. A stunning woman in uniform wearing the most severe frown Nora had ever seen.

“You're drooling on my floor.” The woman scowled; her face stretching like a painted mask.  

Nora snapped to attention, banging her head hard against the metal wall behind her. “Shit!”

“Mind your language, Outsider,” the woman commanded. “Up.”

Nora climbed to her feet, rubbing at the sore spot on her head as she gave the brash woman a once-over. The stern-faced woman was outfitted in officer’s clothes (perfectly tailored and form-fitting) and everything about her, from her flawlessly coiffed hair to her rigid posture screamed authority. And _back the fuck up_.

“You the Overseer?” Nora asked.

“Overseer Regina Mills,” the woman intoned. Her eyes flashing dangerously. “And _you_ are?”

Nora was distracted by the woman’s stormy eyes; by the tiny scar above her lip that undulated when she spoke. It was like a tiny snake, coiled.

“Um…” Nora’s thoughts were scattered. _Damn blasted exhaustion!_ She tried again. “Uh…”

Overseer Mills rolled her eyes. “Do you require an interpreter? Perhaps we can summon one of the schoolchildren to help translate.”  

Now it was Nora’s turn to glare, her eyes narrowing into angry slits as she took a step towards the Overseer.

“Name’s Nora,” she spat. “And perhaps you should be a bit nicer to me, seeing as I schlepped all the way here to help your ass.”

The two guards tightened their grip on their weapons at Nora’s movement, but the Overseer simply waved them off. A brief fluttering of her fingers as she surveyed Nora, a tiny smile (undoubtedly patronizing) on her lips.

“There must be some error, dear,” the Overseer drawled. And Nora scowled at how condescending the term of endearment sounded coming from her mouth. “Vault 108 is not in need of assistance.”

And the Overseer waved her hand again, gesturing at the tidy entryway; the thrumming electronics; the noticeable order in the pristine vault. “Looks like you made the trip for nothing.”

“But there was an emergency broadcast,” Nora stuttered. “Someone from this vault said….” Nora shook her head, trailing off, confused.

She was even more flummoxed when the Overseer took a step towards her; the vault leader’s eyes quizzical and searching.

“What did the broadcast say exactly? Who sent it?”

Her voice was a purr. And the Overseer smiled at Nora then. Insincere and sharp. The bow-shaped scar above her lip stretching like a second smile.  

Nora knew instinctively that the smile was meant to be conciliatory. Disarming. But she only felt disquiet. A slow, sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Something was wrong here. Very wrong.

She glanced around.

Despite the gleaming floors and polished walls; the sweet smell of food simmering nearby, Nora had the feeling that she’d just stepped into a situation most foul. Another fucked up vault experiment that was camouflaged by the seeming order.

Overseer Mills canted her head, her lips pursed speculatively as if she could see the gears shifting in Nora’s mind.

“Come with me,” Overseer Mills requested suddenly. “I believe there _is_ something you can do for us.” 

The Overseer turned, heading for the stairs at the back of the room.

“But you just said—” Nora began.

The Overseer met Nora’s gaze. A long look. Probing.

Her eyes were the brownest Nora had ever seen. A rolling plain; a dazzling auburn. So much brown that Nora had to swallow down a sudden spate of emotion. _What the fuck is going on here?_

 _  
_ “Frisk her,” the Overseer commanded the security officers, as she continued up the stairs. “Take her weapons for safekeeping then show her to my office.”

Nora watched the Overseer disappear up the flight of stairs before submitting resignedly to the search. She was accustomed to this. The Minute Men, the Railroad, the Brotherhood of Steel—they’d all patted her down upon introduction; had made her prove herself to them; had questioned her fitness and fortitude. And when they’d discovered she wasn’t lacking ( _You're an exceptional woman Nora—_ all of them finally agreeing on something _),_ they put her to work.

Apparently Vault 108 would be no different.

Nora handed over her shotgun; her snub-nosed .44. She exhaled through her nose when the male guard (Charming, D. his nametag read) passed his hands over her left ankle, uncovering her combat knife.

“Mind your manners with the Overseer,” the female guard (Mulan, F.) instructed. Her arms folded across her chest as she supervised Nora’s inspection.

“Afraid I’ll hurt her feelings?” Nora joked lamely.

Mulan quirked an eyebrow at Nora before exchanging a meaningful glance with Charming.  “No, that’s not what I’m worried about.”

Nora waited for more (There was a pregnant pause. It had to mean something) but Mulan didn’t elaborate.

And when Charming shot her a thumb’s up and a lopsided grin she could barely discern through his helmet, Nora tucked her hands into her pockets and followed Mulan up the stairs.

To the Overseer’s office.


	3. Chapter 3

Nora had explored five Vault-Tec vaults in the Commonwealth.

There had been Vault 111. The vault she and Nate had been duped into joining before being frozen in cryogenic sleep for 200 years.

Vault 75 had been hidden beneath an elementary school and Nora had been dismayed to find rooms upon rooms of broken toys and child-sized bones.

Vault 81 was where’d she’d met Curie.

There’d been Vault 95. Vault 114.

Besides Vault 81, most of the vaults Nora had visited were in poor condition—emptied of their original inhabitants due to death or mass abandonment and left for raiders and mole rats to overrun.

But Vault 108. . . whoa… Nora was astounded as she traversed the two flights of stairs to the Overseer’s office and stared down into the atrium below. Vault residents milled about in their trademark blue jumpsuits. Some of them working focusedly; others conversing with their neighbors, laughing loudly and free.

From her vantage point on the second floor, Nora could see a barbershop; a general goods store; a colorfully adorned room stuffed with books and easy chairs that had to have been a library or a classroom; a sprawling cafeteria.

The vault was full of life—humming—and it reminded Nora of Diamond’s City teeming marketplace. _What could possibly be wrong here?_

“This way,” Mulan instructed, taking a sharp right and leading Nora through a set of double doors that were guarded on each side by more security personnel. “Here.”

Nora stepped into a cavernous room that contrasted sharply with the metal world outside. Wooden furniture everywhere. An imposing desk and high-backed chair; towering bookcases that held an assortment of books and manuals; soft carpeting that Nora swore she could feel through her steel-toed boots; and a series of computers and modems that had to serve as the vault’s broadcast system and internal intercom.

The room was ornate and ostentatious and Nora didn’t expect any less from the woman who sat before her in an office chair; her legs crossed and fingers steepled beneath her chin as if she were sitting upon a throne awaiting her subjects.

Nora frowned. She’d taken an immediate dislike to the Overseer and didn’t relish the alone time she’d be forced to spend with her.

“You may leave us,” Overseer Mills directed to Mulan.

And as the petite security officer brushed past her, Nora felt a tickle at her waist—a quick slide of fingers—as if Mulan were warning her, again, to take care with the Overseer.

“Have a seat,” Overseer Mills instructed, motioning to the cushioned chair on the other side of her desk.

Nora frowned but complied soon enough. She was tired and the chair looked inviting. So plush. She sank onto the cushions and had to bite back a moan. God…she could fall asleep here.

Overseer Mills seemed to sense her thoughts and the brunette smirked, her arms coming to rest against the wood finish of her desk as she regarded Nora.

“Tell me about yourself, Ms. . . . ?” Overseer Mills trailed off, “What did you say your last name was?”

“I didn’t.” Nora scrunched her shoulders. Unscrunched. Felt a muscle tighten somewhere. “Just call me Nora.”

“No-ra…” Overseer Mills drawled it; an unnecessary over-pronunciation. Nora felt her dislike for the woman deepen. “Nora…” Overseer Mills repeated. “I’d like to know more about you. About why you decided to barge your way inside my vault.” All traces of civility suddenly gone.

“I didn’t barge my way in. You opened the door.”

“After you kicked it.”

Nora rolled her eyes. Of course the woman had cameras situated outside and captured her one-sided skirmish with the vault door.

“So what are you doing here? Besides assaulting my property?” Overseer Mills asked.

 “I told you already. Several days ago I received an emergency broadcast that stated that this vault was in trouble.”

“You _did_ say that. And I told _you_ that I didn’t send an emergency broadcast. And as you can see, the vault’s communication system is in my office. I’m the only person who has access to it.”

“Are you saying that I’m lying?”

“No—”

“Because how else would I get the vault’s coordinates unless someone sent them to me?”

“How indeed?” Overseer Mills pursed her lips; her eyes flitting away for a moment; then back again to Nora’s face. Brown. Her eyes were so brown. Nora swallowed. Felt momentarily faint.

“I need you to do something for me,” Overseer Mills said carefully. “I believe you when you say someone sent an emergency broadcast from this vault. And I want to find out who did it.”

“Why? You said the vault’s not in any peril, so perhaps the emergency broadcast was a mistake. Maybe  you pushed the wrong button or something and—”

“I don’t make mistakes, Ms.—”

“Nora.”

“ _Nora_ …And if someone has breached my office and the vault’s security terminal, I need to know about it.”

The Overseer’s hands clenched into fists on top of her desk, a brief loss of self-control, but then her hands smoothed out again and when she spoke next her voice soft. “Nora…”

Nora frowned. She’d been around enough politicians (from Elder Maxson to her own son Shaun) to know when she was about to be bullshitted. She braced herself.

“Obviously the person who sent the emergency broadcast believes that the vault is in danger, and as his or her Overseer, I want to reassure them that all is well here.”

Overseer Mills smiled then; her lipsticked mouth curving attractively. And even though the woman was cold (and clearly calculating), Nora couldn’t deny that she was beautiful. Devastatingly so.

Nora blinked. Stared down at her hands to refocus her attention. The burn marks and scars that she’d collected after three years of scrapping for survival in the nuclear wasteland that was the Commonwealth.

“Nora…?”

Overseer Mills was still talking to her.

Nora glanced up. “Yeah?”

“I said…I’d like you to spend some time in the vault. As my guest. Explore a bit. Get to know the residents. See if you can determine who sent the emergency broadcast.”

Nora’s brow furrowed. “You want me to be a spy?”

“I want you to gather information.” Overseer Mills steepled her fingers again. Regarded Nora carefully. “You came here with the intention of helping Vault 108. The information you gather will do just that. I have to ensure that the vault is secure and that our location remains secret. Someone leaking information…disclosing our coordinates to veritable strangers…that jeopardizes the vault’s well-being. I can’t have that.”

“Why not just gather your residents and ask who sent the broadcast?”

Overseer Mills chuckled and Nora frowned at the rich contralto. “This person broke into my office and sent the transmission without my permission. I seriously doubt that he or she is going to confess.” And she shook her head in amusement as if Nora was a simpleton. “They would expect to be punished,” she pointed out.  

“And is that what you intend to do?  Punish them?”  

One perfectly manicured eyebrow rose. “This isn’t the outside, Nora. In here, we don’t resolve our disagreements with violence and retribution. I will simply remind this person of vault policy and procedure. And I will do my best to assuage any concerns he or she may have about the vault’s welfare.”

Nora didn’t believe her. Not even a tiny bit. But she didn’t trek all the way to this vault just to leave without any satisfaction. If there was a problem in Vault 108 (and there probably _was_ since Vault-Tec wouldn’t miss any opportunity to torment its residents), she was going to suss it out.

She’d languished in a vault for 200 fucking years. Frozen with eyes wide open; directly across from her dead husband. She _wished_ some intrepid wanderer had come stumbling into Vault 111 and rescued her. Maybe they could have saved Nate. Or prevented Shaun from being kidnapped. Or found some way to keep the other vault dwellers alive (her former neighbors; her _friends_ ). So many unmoving bodies as she’d pushed her way out of the underground chamber. Mouths frozen in permanent rictuses of pain.

Nora was passionate about vaults. Wanted to unlock and explore every one she could find. Because if there was even _one_ person that she could help—one person that she could liberate from the torture chambers that masqueraded as safe havens—perhaps it would make up for Nate and Shaun. Make up for all the things she’d lost and left in Vault 111 all those years ago.

“So will you do it?” Overseer Mills asked. Nora stirred herself from her silent contemplation. She’d lost the thread of their conversation. “Will you find out who sent the emergency broadcast?”

Nora hesitated. But only for a second. “Yes.”

“Excellent.” Overseer Mills leaned back in her chair. Uncrossed her legs only to cross them again. “I don’t know what passes for currency on the outside, but I can pay you for your efforts.”

“I don’t need payment.” She’d collected enough caps over the years. A fortune she’d accumulated from the errands she ran for the Brotherhood of Steel and the Railroad.

Overseer Mills smirked; the scar above her lip doing that dance again. “You’re a veritable saint,” she said.

Nora coughed. Her throat hurting. Her mind. “ _No_. No, I’m not.”

She couldn’t meet the Overseer’s eyes. That ocean of brown.

Nora turned her eyes to the shiny electronics adorning the Overseer’s back wall. “You should terminate that emergency broadcast while you have the chance. The next person who shows up at your vault might do more than just kick the door.”

“Already taken care of,” Overseer Mills assured. “I also changed the terminal password.”

Nora nodded. Only halfway paying attention. She needed to sleep. Her mind felt fuzzy and thick.

“So how is this supposed to work? I just hang out in your vault and make nice with the residents until someone admits that they sent the emergency broadcast? I’m a stranger. And an outsider. I doubt anyone will even talk to me.”

Overseer Mills laughed again and this time the sound was less grating. “You won’t be lacking in conversation, believe me. Vault 108’s residents are a gregarious bunch. Probably something to do with vault living being so tedious and mundane.” Her smile was mocking. “With your armor and… _glittering_ personality, you’re sure to be well-received. I’ll tell everyone that you’re fulfilling a mission of high priority Locating fusion cores or something. That will establish your presence in the vault and provide you with a cover story.”

“How long do you expect this to take?”

“I don’t know, Nora…How skilled are you in relationship-building?”

Nora sucked at it, if her deteriorating friendships with Piper and Cait were anything to go by. (And Danse, her mind added). But she couldn’t be too bad at it, considering she had a working relationship with three competing factions and neither group had killed her yet.  Speaking of…

“This will have to be a come and go thing,” Nora pointed out. “I have responsibilities outside. I can’t… _stay_ here.”

Being inside the vault _this_ long was already beginning to make her itch. Make her remember.

“That’s fine. I’ll leave word with the gate guards. You can come and go as you see fit. Of course, you’ll have to leave your weapons with security upon reentry. And you’ll have to assure me that you won’t breathe a word to anyone about the vault’s location.”

Nora nodded. “Of course.”  

She rubbed absentmindedly at the bruise on the back of her head; felt a lump forming.

Regina noticed. “Do you require treatment from our medical staff?”

The woman’s concern was surprising, but Nora brushed it off. “I’m fine. I’ll feel better after a good night’s sleep.”

Regina nodded, her eyes trained on the still-healing scars on Nora’s forearms. The Overseer looked poised to ask a question, but she blinked past it. Fixed Nora with another one of those rehearsed smiles.

“Now that the formalities are out of the way, how would you like a glass of the best apple cider you ever tasted?”

The Overseer moved gracefully from her seat and approached a liquor cabinet near the back of the room that Nora hadn’t noticed before.

“Got anything stronger?” Nora asked as she rose, less gracefully, from her own chair.

There was a tinkle of ice and glass, before Regina extended a tumbler of alcohol towards Nora. Amber liquid, lighter than the merlot Nora occasionally drank at The Third Rail but more aromatic. Sweet-smelling.

Nora took a tentative sip and immediately gasped. “This is good,” she choked. The tart flavor coating her tongue and making her eyelids flutter perceptibly.

Overseer Mills took her own sip. Delicate and neat. “I distill it myself,” she said, a pleased smile on her face.

“You have apples here?” Nora asked. Her glass already empty.

Overseer Mills nodded and took Nora’s tumbler, intent on refilling it. “We have a nursery in the vault. A necessity, really, since our food supply is limited.” She returned Nora’s glass to her, filled almost to the brim.

Nora took another deep drink before asking, “What else do you grow?”

Overseer Mills reclaimed her seat at the desk and Nora followed suit, easing back into the cushioned chair and sighing happily from the combination of good drink and soft seat.

“We grow squash, potatoes. Every now and then we’re able to produce spinach, but greens are harder to grow indoors even with the level of technology we possess.”

Nora drained her glass but shook her head when Overseer Mills reached for it again. She was already feeling loopy. No point in getting drunk in front of her new… _employer_?

“So what’s the deal with this vault?” she asked clumsily. The alcohol making her bold.

“The _deal_?” Overseer  Mills repeated, her nose wrinkling in confusion. “I’m not sure I follow.”

Nora slouched in her chair. “Look, I’ve seen my share of vaults in the Commonwealth. Even had to claw my way out of one. Sure, these places are pretty to look at with enough gadgets to put the Institute to shame, but there’s always something going on behind the scenes. Usually sinister.”

Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized Overseer Mills. Tried to feel her out.  

“The Institute…?”

Nora waved her hand; not wanting to deviate from the conversation at hand.

Overseers Mills leaned back in her seat; her glass of cider dangling comfortably in her hand. “Just what are you asking, Outsider?”

“I’m just saying…if I’m going to be spending time in this vault, I need to know that there’s not some secret experiment going on here that could endanger me. You know…like disease incubation or a cloning program…some sort of psychological testing…” Her eyes drifted to her empty glass. “Poisoned food and drink.”

Regina’s lips pursed. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’ve seen it.”

Hell, she’d barely survived it. Nora sighed. Suddenly wished her glass was full again. She refocused herself by staring at the brown of her hands. The crisscrossed scars that would never completely fade.

“I just need you to be upfront with me.”

Regina set her glass down on the desk before speaking. Leaned forward until her eyes caught Nora’s. “I’m not completely sure what you mean when you reference disease incubation and cloning…” She frowned deeply. “But I can assure you that nothing of the sort is going on in Vault 108. We don’t have communication with any of the other vaults, so I can’t attest to what happens outside these walls. Vault-Tech discontinued all surveillance and support shortly after the bombs fell. We’re alone here. Motivated simply by our need for survival.”  

Her chest heaved and Nora could tell that she’d offended the woman with her accusations.

“As far as poisoned food and drink…” Regina scowled. A slash of her mouth that was momentarily terrifying. “I’d like to point out that I am drinking from the same pitcher of apple cider as you are.”

Her eyes smoldered and Nora nodded. Convinced. For now.

“Now it’s my turn for questions.”

Nora raised an eyebrow in surprise but nodded her acquiescence. She expected to be questioned about her background; her suitability for her assignment; her tolerance for violence. All the questions she’d fielded when she began working for the various Commonwealth factions.

So she was taken aback when Overseer Mills queried softly: “What’s it like out there?”

Nora blinked. Raised the glass to her lips even though she knew was empty.

“We’ve heard stories,” Overseer Mills continued. “We grow up with them. Our first education. _Fear the Outside. Don’t move beyond these walls_.” The woman’s eyes glittered. Curious and searching. “Stories of monsters and unending fire. Stories of mad men. Radiation that will eat the very flesh from your bones.”

Nora was hypnotized by the woman’s eyes. Her fervent words. “Is all that true?” Overseer Mills asked carefully. “Do we have reason to fear the Outside?” A pause. “Do we have reason to fear _you_?”

Nora’s mind drifted. Remembering her first moments outside of Vault 111. 200 years after the bombs fell.

The world had been gone. Color extinguished. Light. There had only been the grey of death; clouds of smoke; misshapen debris that had once been trees or people.

Absence. That’s all there’d been. Absence. Everywhere she looked. Such tragic irony.

No people. No color. No sound except gunfire.

Nate dead. Sean gone.

So yes. There was reason to fear. Fear was the abiding emotion in the nuclear wasteland.

Overseer Mills was waiting for a response.

Nora swallowed, concocting her lie. “It’s not all bad,” she assured.

She had friends after all (sort of). A dog. She had Donny Kowalski. She had a bed she could return to at night and lose herself in. Huddle beneath the fibrous wool.

“Still…,” she amended, “I would not recommend that you venture outside. Unless absolutely necessary.”

Overseer Mills nodded. That’s what she’d thought.

“As for me,” Nora continued. “I pose no threat to you. I came here to help, remember?”

Overseer Mills mouth crooked into a smile. Wily and incomplete. “That _is_ what you said.”

And even though Nora didn’t request it, the Overseer rose to fill their glasses again. The room suddenly so quiet that the sound of liquor pouring was cacophonous.

The promise of liquor made Nora’s mouth water. “You know…there _is_ a way that you can pay me,” she ventured. As she accepted her glass of cider. Bought it to her nose to inhale the spicy scent before sipping.

“And what way is that?”  Overseer Mills asked curiously. Her eyes watching the movement of Nora’s throat; the liquor sliding down easily; deep gulps.

“Apples,” Nora husked. “All the apples you can spare.”

Overseer Mills smiled. Her first genuine one that day.


	4. Chapter 4

Donny Kowalksi hated fruit.

The post-apocalyptic Commonwealth offered little in the way of fruit or vegetable, but one could occasionally find carrots (always limp; always brown), melon (thick-skinned and hard to open; but the meaty insides were surprisingly sweet), and mutfruit (a bastardized nutriment Nora still hadn’t deciphered. Was it a mutated pear; a disfigured cabbage?)

Most folks in the Commonwealth subsisted off a steady diet of over-cooked meats and motley stews. Survival was prioritized not taste.

So when Overseer Mills gifted Nora an entire bag of fresh apples ( _Consider it your first payment_ , the vault leader had murmured), Nora had exulted.

She hadn’t had an apple since before the war. Could barely remember the taste; the brittle skin and tart juiciness.

She left Vault 108 already chomping on one—deep red and round, flavor exploding on her tongue.  The rest of the apples stored in her rucksack like invaluable treasure.

“I’ll be back in a couple of days,” she told the Overseer. Before she collected her weapons; accepting the smile from Officer Charming; the stilted frown from Officer Mulan.

She’d been bought with a bag of apples. A newly minted spy for the Overseer.

But Nora eased her conscience by reminding herself that she’d found nothing amiss in Vault 108. Not so far anyway. The Overseer was pleasant enough if cold. And there wasn’t the air of mystery and violence that Nora had found in the other Commonwealth vaults she’d visited.

 _There’s something weird about Vault 108_ , _for sure_ , she reasoned. _But nothing foul._

And Nora was so confident in her assessment that she continued to snack on her surfeit of apples, her hands full of seeds and core—a no-no in the Commonwealth since every seasoned traveler knew to keep their hands at the ready; close to weapons and explosives.

She’d consumed half the bag of apples by the time she made it to Donny Kowalski—the eleven year old orphan who lived in a tilting shack at the edge of the Boston Harbor.

Nora had befriended the boy three years ago when she found him leaning over the dock railing, staring into the murky water. She’d thought the boy was preparing to jump (Suicide was the second-leading cause of death in the Commonwealth. Surpassed only by homicide), and she’d rushed forward, snatching the gangly boy away from the water’s edge.

It had been a misunderstanding.

Donny had been simply staring at a submarine thinking it was a monster. And after Nora had chided the boy on the importance of safety (and had investigated the submarine/monster to satisfy the boy’s curiosity), a friendship had blossomed between them.

Donny was an orphan. His father long dead; his mother but a memory. The little boy stayed in his tiny shack by the sea because it was the only thing he had left of home.

A ratty mattress; a rusted tricycle; faded pictures of parents who would never  return.

His sadness was something Nora recognized. His longing. She visited Donny often because she worried about him. Because he reminded her of her lost son, Sean.

Nora found Donny in his favorite spot. Straddling the splintered rails of the dock, moving back and forth on the wood as if it were a rocking horse.

He’d grown a bit since Nora first met him, but only a little. He was undersized for his age; lean and gaunt as if his body refused to grow; his hair matted and gnarled around his head like a stitched cap; his feet always shoe-less, black against the crumbly wood.

“Oi!” Nora called out to him; sauntering into view; her face stretching into an easy smile as her eyes traveled over her young friend’s face. It was good to see him. Every time, good to see him.

He lived so close to the water. And there were so many mirelurks in the area. So many slavers and raiders, bloodthirsty and cruel. She was always worried that the last time she saw Donny Kowalski would be the _last_ time.

“Nor’!”

A happy shout. Donny was so eager to get to her that he nearly catapulted off the rail; wobbled backwards and forwards for a moment; the rocking horse now a see-saw.

Nora caught him just in time. Her arms around him to steady him but also an impromptu hug. “Kid, why do you insist on playing on this thing?” she admonished gently.

Donny spoke into the leather of her jacket. Not quite ready to let her go. “It’s fun,” he explained. “Plus, you know this rail serves as my observation post. I have to be on the lookout for any more monsters that might appear.”

He finally pulled away from her. His floe-gray eyes filled with mischief and merry.

“Donny, I’ve told you a thousand times. That was a _submarine_ we saw, not a monster. And I made it go away, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but the next thing that shows up could be a monster and I gotta be prepared. I’ve even been stockpiling, see?”

He gestured towards a half-filled crate near the wharf’s edge. Nora peered inside. Saw a poorly-made slingshot; loose metal that could have been anything; a handful of bullets, mismatched; and a curved dagger the color of blood. The little boy’s version of a weapon’s arsenal.

Donny beamed with pride. “Ain’t no monster going to sneak up on me, no way.”

Nora sighed. Unaccountably sad. “Kid…”

“And look! I even set me a trip wire around my front door.” He pointed again. At a line of aluminum cans, connected by twine, framing the entrance of his tiny shack. “Danse showed me how. Said it would jangle an alarm if anyone tries to sneak up on me.”

“Danse has been here?”

Nora tried not to sound breathless when she said it.

“Yeah. He stopped by a coupla days ago to bring me a case of bottled water. It was him who gave me the slingshot.”

Donny’s entire face lit up at the mention of the fallen Brotherhood soldier. A towering soldier in power armor was the definition of hero in Donny’s eyes. The little boy adored Danse. And the feeling was entirely mutual. Nora wasn’t surprised to hear that Danse had visited and left supplies.

She _was_ surprised by the next thing Donny said though: “Cait came by too. A few days after. Bought me snack cakes and bubble gum.”

“Cait? Really?”  

Of all of Nora’s friends, Cait was probably her closest. _Was_ anyway. Before their disagreement over Piper. Before the shouting match. Nora’s narrowed eyes and Cait’s accusations.

Cait didn’t _do_ relationships; didn’t bother with feelings; could barely stand being around people most days.

 _People fuck you over_ , Cait always said, her thick Irish brogue full of distaste. _Would kill your corpse if they could._ Always distrusting. Always suspicious. A wariness she’d earned in blood.

But she’d been Nora’s best friend. And here she was bringing sweets to Donny Kowalski.

“Did she stay long?” Nora asked, voice tremoring without her permission.

She hadn’t seen Cait in months. Wondered briefly if her friend’s hair had grown longer. If the red of it had faded; become muted and brown like everything else in this world.

Donny was playing some sort of hop-scotch game with himself; jumping back and forth on the discolored floor planks of the dock. He didn’t look up when he answered:

“Only long enough to recalibrate the turrets. She said you did a piss poor job setting them up.”  He looked up then; grinning cheekily at Nora. “Her words not mine.”

Nora studied the turrets in question. A trio of high-tech weaponry adorning the roof of Donny’s shack. She’d set the guns up as a way of protecting Donny. Looking out for him. The turrets weren’t enough to stop a horde of mirelurks (Or, god forbid, a mob of super mutants), but they would slow the monsters down. Give Donny enough time to escape. Nora hoped.

Nora moved closer to inspect the turrets. The wiring and placement.

The heavy guns gleamed silver in the fading light. Shiny and deadly.

“The way I had them was fine,” Nora complained. And she prodded at the guns needlessly. Made sure they were responsive; still functional.

Donny shrugged. Stopped hopping around for a second. “Eh…I think Cait was just hoping you’d be here. She kept asking about you.”

It wouldn’t be good to cry in front of a kid, so Nora held it together. “What’d she say?”

Donny shrugged again. His face wrinkling as he tried to remember. “Asked where you were. If you’d been by. Stuff like that.”

Back to hopping. Some disorganized game that made sense only to him.

“If she comes by again, tell her…”

Tell her what exactly?

_I miss you? I worry about your sobriety? I want to be friends again just not at the expense of Piper?_

Nora massaged her temples. An attempt to push back the questions; the torrent of emotions.

“Tell her not to mess around with my turrets,” she said irritably. “These things are delicate.”

And Nora went into her rucksack then. Intent on distracting herself with more pleasant things.

“I bought you something,” she told Donny.

Donny spun a circle. Came tottering dizzily towards Nora. Uncoordinated like a toddler.

Nora smiled. _He’s still a child,_ she thought wistfully. _Even in this godforsaken place. Still a little kid._

“It must be Christmas,” Donny enthused. Scampering closer. His right hand settling in a loose clasp around Nora’s gun belt. “Everyone keeps bringing me stuff.”

“Not quite Christmas,” Nora responded, pulling forth the bag of apples. At least eight remaining. Blood red and bulbous. “Ever had an apple, kid?”

Donny’s nose wrinkled. “Fruit? I hate fruit.”

“I know, but this isn’t any old fruit. This right here is fresh apple. Pre-war quality. The _best_.”

Nora extended an apple to Donny. Waited until the boy grabbed it before digging into the bag for one for herself.

Donny eyed the red fruit suspiciously. Not used to food with so much color. With no dents or smudges or trickling slime.

“Where’d you get it?” he asked suspiciously.

“Well…” She didn’t want to lie to the kid, but it wasn’t wise to talk openly of vaults. Vaults were considered goldmines in the Commonwealth, and there was always some raider or slaver who wanted inside one. It was best to keep mum on the whole thing.

Nora tousled the boy’s hair. Barely managed to pull her fingers through the tangled mane. “Never mind where I got it kid, just give it a taste.”

Donny narrowed his eyes at the fruit then Nora. But when the combat warrior simply raised an eyebrow at him—encouraging—Donny nodded his head and took a tentative bite.

He chewed quietly for a few seconds; his eyes closed to better capture the taste; and Nora knew she had him when the boy took another bite. A bigger one this time. His teeth and tongue moving rapidly, trying to pull as much of the fruit into his mouth as possible.

Nora laughed. “Take it easy, kid. That apple ain’t going nowhere.”

She bit into her own apple and made quick work of tying the bag of remaining apples. Six left.

“The rest of these are for you,” she told Danny. Pushing the bag into his free hand. “Take your time with them though ‘cause I’m not sure when I’ll get more.”

“Thanks Nor’,” the eleven-year old rasped. His cheeks bulging with fruit and smiles. “How long you staying for? I can make us dinner. Maybe corn and bloatfly soup?”

Nora suppressed a shudder. The last time Donny had cooked for her, he’d prepared cricket salad. No salad, all cricket. Nora had barely managed to keep the meal down.

“How ‘bout I cook this time around?” Nora deflected. “I have potatoes in my bag. I can make us a hash.”

“Sounds good!”

He tugged happily at Nora’s hand, pulling her into his shack. Past the aluminum-can trip-wire; the sleeping turrets; the emptied sea.

His hand in hers was small and thin. Nora could feel the bone of him; the fragileness. And not for the first time, Nora wondered how she could get the boy out of this shack; away from the harbor; out of the Commonwealth altogether.


	5. Chapter 5

She stopped by the Castle on the way home. It was headquarters for the Minutemen. A former military fort. Wide and spacious and home to dozens of soldiers and civilians. Nora had helped recapture the fort some years ago. Had taken down a Mirelurk Queen, a missile launcher in hand. Ever since then the Minutemen had considered her their leader. Called her General. Assigned her tasks. _Expected_ of her.

Nora tried her best to avoid the group.

It wasn’t that she disliked the Minutemen. She admired their tenacity and respected their mission—to defend the citizens of the Commonwealth and to rebuild desolated communities. But they asked too much of her. _Fix this. Build that. Rescue_. _Reconnoiter. Repeat._  

She’d been their errand girl for three years and couldn’t tolerate it any longer. Between them, the Brotherhood of Steel, and the Railroad, she was all worn out. Used.

At least the Brotherhood of Steel and the Railroad knew when to back off; knew when to send their own operatives and give Nora a break. The Minutemen knew no such restraint. Preston had followed her home for goodness sake; kept pushing for more even when she had nothing left to give.

To avoid another such unwelcome surprise, Nora decided to drop by the Castle. Give Preston an update on Vault 108. And remind him (vehemently) to contact her on the radio when the Minutemen needed her. No more home visits.

She was welcomed into the Castle with fanfare. Soldiers came ‘round to greet her; saluted from their stations along the wall. Civilians helloed.

Ronnie Shaw, the Quartermaster, smirked and punched Nora in the shoulder. “Drinks later,” Ronnie murmured before wandering back to her weapons stall.

Shouts of “General!” rang out, pulsing against Nora’s head. There were lifted hands; sincere smiles.

It still surprised Nora, how committed the Minutemen were to their order; to their traditions. They believed in their mission. They believed in her.

“General.”

Preston Garvey at her right hip. Her faithful lieutenant. Whether she wanted him to be or not.

“Preston.”

He smiled at her, warm and slow. 

Preston Garvey was a serious man, almost dour. But every now and then the façade would slip. The soldier would retreat, the man would surface.

“You have an update for me? Regarding the vault?” he asked.

Nora nodded. “But not here. Your office. Where we can talk privately.”

Preston tipped his head before stepping away, his arms folding behind his back; allowing Nora to take the lead.

His office was small. Little more than four walls and repurposed furniture. But it was neat and hospitable (like it’s owner) and Nora sank happily onto the sofa in the corner—the only luxury Preston Garvey allowed himself.

Preston followed Nora into the office. Closed the door behind them with a soft snick. He took the chair opposite Nora. Folded his right leg over the other. Some part of his body always folded.

If he were the brash sort, he would have hurried Nora. Pushed her for information, an update. Quick. But Preston waited quietly. Upright in his chair, still and patient as he studied Nora.

Her slouched form; the way her fingers dug into the cushions of the couch; her neck stretched in uneven lines as she gazed up at the ceiling. Her eyes open then closed. Her breathing irregular.

Fatigue.

Something else.

When the seconds stretched into minutes, Nora finally righted herself. Let out a little huff as she adjusted herself against the plushness of the couch.

“So…” she began. Her thoughts were jumbled and Preston appreciated orderliness. She needed to get it together. “So…this vault isn’t in trouble like we initially thought.”

Preston leaned back. Surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah. I think it was some sort of miscommunication…” Nora recalled the brown of the Overseer’s eyes. What she hoped was honesty, straightforwardness. “I can’t say for certain that _nothing’s_ going on there…we both know how fucked up vaults can be.” Preston winced at the profanity but didn’t interrupt. “But on the surface, I couldn’t identify a problem.” Nora paused. Cleared her throat and flicked her eyes away from Preston. “I’m actually going to be spending some time there…in Vault 108. The Overseer wants me to fulfill a job for her.”

Preston’s mouth twisted. Confusion. Concern. “What sort of job?”

“Um…” How much should she share? _I’ve volunteered to be a spy for the Overseer_ seemed wrong somehow. Inaccurate. Even though that was essentially what Nora had agreed to do. “Basic stuff, really” Nora equivocated. “Hunting fusion cores. Supplying things they don’t have. Things like that.”

It was a lie. And Nora didn’t know why she was doing it. But she supposed it went along with the job. Rule 1 of Being a Spy: Lie to Everyone.

She cleared her throat again. Tried to dislodge the sick feeling that was creeping past her larynx. “So that’s it.”

Preston tilted his head. Considering. His eyes never straying from Nora’s face. So much warmth directed towards her. “You’ll be careful, won’t you?” he asked.

And Nora knew, instinctively, that Preston was aware of her lie.

“I’ll be careful.”

She shrugged her shoulders, rising to her feet so that she could meet up with Ronnie Shaw and have that drink.

“Like I said, there’s nothing going on in this vault. Just a bunch of a homebodies going a bit stir crazy after being cooped up so long.”

Nora convinced herself of it during drinks with Ronnie Shaw ( _Just one more General. Bourbon this time);_ during the long walk to her apartment in Diamond City. As she got undressed that night and prepared herself for bed.

She convinced herself:

_There is nothing amiss in Vault 108. Absolutely nothing for me to be worried about._

But when she threw her leather jacket into the hamper (a lazy heave affected by her fatigue and drunkenness) a slip of paper fell out of one of the pockets.

A flash of white against her dirt floor. Blinking up at her.

Nora bent for the fallen paper, her fingers trembling. Knowing.

Some sort of note, carefully folded.

Nora opened the paper. Read with bated breath:

**_The Overseer is evil. Don’t trust anything she says. Please help us._ **


	6. Chapter 6

 

The note wasn’t signed.

Three sentences trailing into nothingness. An anonymous author just like with the emergency broadcast.

_Shit!_

Nora turned the note over, backwards. As if adjusting the missive—the feel of it in her hand—would make the words make sense. Would reveal.

The mysteriousness of the whole thing sobered Nora immediately, and she sat on the edge of her bed; the crumpled note clenched tight between her fingers.

Nothing involving a vault could ever be easy.

“Fuck!”

Overseer Mills wanted her to be a spy. Had promised that nothing was wrong inside her vault.

But the author of this note said that that was a lie. And that Overseer Mills was evil.

Who to believe?

. . .

“Back so soon?” Officer Charming asked, reaching for Nora’s guns.

His hands moved from her hip to her ankle, back up; double-checking for any hidden weapons. But the officer’s touch was gentle, fleeting; as if he didn’t want to touch Nora for too long; invade her space. And Charming smiled the entire time. His face freed from his security helmet today; sand-colored hair falling into his eyes. His teeth white and lined towards Nora. Boyish: the whole of him.

Nora nodded at the guard’s question. “I have some things to do for the Overseer,” she replied. “I’ll be back and forth a bit.”

“The Overseer said as much.”

And he stepped back from her, still smiling. As if he were a greeter in a department store rather than a security officer.

Nora hadn’t planned to return to the vault so soon. But the mystery note had alarmed her, disrupted her plans. She’d slept a few hours, tossing and turning in bed, then had set back out into the wilderness. Back to Vault 108.

A spy.

She would work for Overseer Mills to uncover the vault whistleblower and do whatever she could to make sure that person wasn’t harmed.

But she would also covertly investigate Overseer Mills and Vault 108’s general operations. See if there was a conspiracy afoot. Something that would threaten vault residents.

A double agent.

She’d mastered such deceit after years of working for competing factions in the Commonwealth. Duplicity. Diplomacy. It was all the same really. _Results._ That was what was most important. 

Nora had been buzzed into Vault 108 immediately. Met at the entrance by Officer Charming and a female officer with skin the color of burnished sandalwood.

_Tiana_ , the woman officer had said, before asking Nora to surrender her weapons.

“Where’s Officer Mulan?” Nora asked Charming.

When she’d been sufficiently searched; her weapons taken from her and stored in a lock box.

Charming shifted from one foot to the other, his perfect teeth pressing down hard against his bottom lip.

“Um…She’s making her rounds,” he answered. His eyes moving to Tiana’s—quick and meaningful. “Shall I show you to the Overseer’s office?”

And the security officer didn’t wait for a response. He moved quickly towards the back stairs, Nora trailing him.

A foot away, Tiana watched.

. . .

There was a different set of guards flanking the Overseer’s office this time. Muscular and towering officers with deep-set scowls on their faces. Gloved hands rested against their work-issued combat rifles. The officers were there for show, Nora could tell. A sign of power from the Overseer, and Nora startled at the sight of them. Their fierceness and bulk. Their violent display.

Charming noticed Nora’s disquiet.

“The Overseer’s been on edge lately,” he told her. An almost-whisper. “Beefed up security all over.”

“How come?”

Charming shrugged. “Don’t know.  Nothing ever happens in the vault outside of the occasional radroach infestation. It’s really quite boring actually.”

Nora glanced at the gun-wielding guards. “Uh huh,” she murmured disbelievingly.

“Well, just wait here for the Overseer. She’s in a meeting now, but she’ll be out shortly.”

And Charming grinned at Nora before leaving her there with the guards; his booted feet loud against the stairs before fading.

Nora waited.

The Overseer’s office door was ajar and Nora could see through the opening. A sidelong glance. Overseer Mills was seated behind her desk, a vault resident opposite her. A young woman with brown hair who nodded at intervals at the Overseer’s words. Nora could only catch snippets of their conversation.

“You are maintenance…” The rich timbre of the Overseer’s voice. Strong and sure.

“I am maintenance…Yes…”

“You enjoy working…” It was garbled. “Satisfied with…?”

“Yes, Overseer, I enjoy…”

Nora strained to hear. But the conversation was bits and pieces. She couldn’t hear it all; lacked context.

“There is nothing out there, you know? Nothing.”

Even from a distance, Nora could see the brown of Overseer Mills’ eyes. How focused they were. Hypnotizing.

“Nothing Overseer. There is nothing out there.”

“Who are you?”

Nora craned her neck. Drifting closer to the opening in the door. The guards like bookends on either side of her. Stiff and disengaged.

“Who are you?” the Overseer asked again. And Nora blinked at the question. At the absurdity of such repetition.  

“Belle,” the vaulter answered. “I am Belle.”

“Again.”

“I am Belle.”

“Good.”

And the Overseer smiled. A sudden opening in her face like a tunnel, appeared.

Nora moved away from the door. Two steps. Three. Until all she could see was the breadth of the guards. Their chest plates. Their rifles. Their closed faces.

And when Overseer Mills came for her minutes later, Nora had composed herself.

…

Overseer Mills offered her cider. The stretch of her mouth approximating a smile as she gestured Nora into one of her visitors’ chairs.

“No, thank you,” Nora declined. “I went overboard with the drinking a couple of days ago. Need to dry out.”

“Everything in moderation,” Overseer Mills responded before reclaiming her seat behind her behemoth of a desk. The brunette crossed her legs and studied Nora through evaluative eyes. “And how are you, Nora? I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

Nora shrugged. “I ran out of apples.”

The Overseer tilted back her head, laughed long and loud. A melodic tinkling in the otherwise quiet room.

“Did you enjoy them?” she asked Nora, still smiling. “I take pride in our apples. Grow them myself, actually.”

“You’re a woman of many skills.”

It was a throwaway comment. Meant to fill space while Nora gathered her thoughts. But the Overseer stiffened at the comment. Her gaze sharpening; laser focused on Nora.

“That I am,” she agreed.

Nora looked away from the vault leader. From the heat of her eyes. Studied the Overseer’s desk instead.  The neatness of it. Sheaves of papers and color-coded folders. Timeworn books with multisyllabic words across them that Nora couldn’t decipher. A framed picture angled away from the door. An almost manic organization.

Nora reached for the picture without thinking. “I had a picture frame like this once. My husband…”

But the Overseer snatched the picture away before Nora’s fingers could even graze it; secreting the frame into a drawer on her desk before leveling Nora with an icy stare.

“ _Don’t_ ,” the Overseer warned.

And Nora was taken aback by the gravel of her voice. “Sorry,” she stammered. “It just reminded me of a photograph I used to have…a long time ago.” She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Decided to change the subject. “I see you have new guards at the door. They’re very…uh…imposing.”

“Yes, well…After the security breach in my office, I decided that some adjustments were needed. The previous guards were either complicit in the break-in or incompetent in their duties. Either way, they’ve been reassigned.”

“Like Officer Mulan?”

Overseer Mills visibly startled at the comment.

“I noticed that she isn’t guarding the vault door anymore,” Nora stated casually. But she watched for a reaction.  

The Overseer simply smiled; her face impassive; smooth like stone. “Officer Mulan is on assignment. Nothing you should be worried about.” But her lips pursed just enough. Irritation. “Now, Nora…Are you ready to get to work? I don’t mean to rush you, dear, but I _would_ like to find the person who broke into my office sooner rather than later. Can’t have any more security breaches, after all.”

“Who was that in your office just now? Before I entered?”

Nora couldn’t shake the stilted conversation she’d overheard. _I am Belle_ repeated like a scratched record.

Overseer Mills frowned at Nora. Irked at being interrupted. “Ms. French?” Nora nodded. “Why do you need to know about her?”

Nora shrugged. “I thought you _wanted_ me to get to know the vault residents. That’s your plan, right? For me to make nice? Make friends?”

“I want you to catch an intruder--not swap friendship bracelets with the first person who strikes your fancy.”

Nora rolled her eyes, ignoring the gibe. “The conversation you were having with her… _Belle_ …” Overseer Mills straightened in her chair. “I heard parts of it…It was odd. She kept repeating herself.”

There was a glint of teeth behind the Overseer’s mouth. Like bared fangs. And when the vault leader spoke next her words were clipped; forced.

“Nora, I understand that you’re undertaking an important mission for the vault, and I _appreciate_ your willingness to help, I _do_. But there are certain things I can’t divulge to you about the vault. About our residents. There are issues of privacy, of course. And you’re an Outsider—”

“An Outsider you invited in.”

“Be that as it may—”

“Look—”

Nora thought of the note. Refolded in her pocket.

_The Overseer is evil. Don’t believe anything she says._

“We have to be upfront with each other,” she told the Overseer.

“I thought we had been.”

“I have to be able to trust you.”

“Have I given your reason not to?”

Overseer Mills seemed genuinely interested in the answer, leaning back in her chair to study Nora quietly.

Seconds passed. So many that a new tension developed between them. Crackling and elongated.

The Overseer finally released a heavy sigh; rubbing at a spot of tension on her forehead. “I can’t reveal everything. I’m obligated as Overseer to protect the vault and my people. What I _will_ tell you is that many of the vaulters here tend to be… _peculiar_. It’s not surprising actually. We spend our lives underground. Absent sun and sky. We eat food that’s grown in a lab. We see the same faces day after day. Every day the same. Monotony. It takes a toll on us…the privations and dreariness of living like caged animals.” Her face contorted; a wrinkle appearing where before there had been none. “I used to think we were a science experiment. Some Great Eye watching us from beyond…taking notes…seeing if we would crack under the strain. I know that sounds crazy—”

“It doesn’t.”

“Ah, yes. You said you’ve seen vaults where such experiments have taken place.”

Nora nodded. Hands clenched into fists on her lap. Remembering. “I’ve seen them. Been inside.”

Overseer Mills stared at Nora. Willing her to continue.

Nora sighed. “I was at home when the war started. About to sit down for dinner with my husband when there was an explosion in the sky. A blanket of orange suddenly covering our entire neighborhood.”

“Nuclear fire.”

Nora’s mouth thinned and she nodded. “There was a vault within a mile of us. Only a handful of people were allowed entrance. Nate and I…we thought we were lucky. They let us in. We left so many of our neighbors, our friends, behind. Could hear them screaming as we took the elevator down into the heart of the vault. Sean slept through the entire thing…I don’t know how.”

“Sean?”

“My son. He was an infant then.” A small smile appeared on Nora’s face. Disappeared just as quickly. “The vault overseer welcomed us inside. Gave us jumpsuits and put us in decontamination chambers. He told us everything would be okay. That we would survive the war and build a new life underground. It was all a lie. They froze us in cryogenic chambers, the whole lot of us. They intended to study us. Perform experiments. Who knows what else…” Her eyes glazed over. “We weren’t lucky after all.”

“How long?” The Overseer’s eyes were round pools of auburn and Nora blinked at the sight of them; at the hoarseness of the woman’s tone. “How long were you kept like that?”

“Two hundred years.”

Overseer Mills gasped. And it was the first time Nora had seen the stoic woman rattled. “What happened to your husband? To Sean?”

“Gone. Both of them.” And Nora left it at. Because _gone_ said enough, didn’t it?

“I’m…” The Overseer licked her lips. Brushed her fingers over the paperwork on her desk. A violent tremoring. “I’m sorry Nora. I am _deeply_ sorry for what you’ve experienced. I understand now why you have a particular _cynicism_ about vaults.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. And I promise you that nothing even _remotely_ close to what happened to you is happening here in Vault 108.”

Nora exhaled; wanting to believe her. “Good.”

The Overseer managed a smile then rose from her desk to approach the liquor cabinet. She quickly filled two tumblers with alcohol.

“What we have in Vault 108 is something less severe than what you experienced but still problematic,” she explained to Nora before extending a glass of cider across the desk.

Nora hesitated only a second before taking it. Downing a mouthful of the liquor. Blindingly sweet.

Overseer Mills eased back into her chair.

“Vault Depressive Syndrome,” she enunciated. Using her free hand to push a heavy book towards Nora. One of the titles Nora couldn’t discern from before. “A condition that produces psychosis in vault residents. Loss of functioning.  There’s an entire manual dedicated to it.”

She drank deeply from her glass even as her eyes tracked Nora who had picked up the heavy textbook with some interest.

“Belle is one of our residents who has VDS,” Overseer Mills continued. “She’s at the stage now where she forgets everything. Her name. Her job. Just yesterday she was convinced that she didn’t even belong in this vault. That’d she’d been kidnapped and forced here against her will.” Overseer Mills sighed; set her empty glass down on her desk before fixing Nora with a pained stare. “The vault doesn’t have a therapist or, _hell_ , even a competent doctor. Vault-Tech only provided the manual. And a supply closet worth of medication that helps control the symptoms.” Her hair brushed her shoulders when she spoke; a rhythmic back and forth like a curtain closing. “I have weekly sessions with Belle…with other residents who are similarly afflicted. I have to remind them that they are okay. That they are _them_. That’s what you saw earlier. I was trying to help Belle.”

The Overseer seemed sincere, sounded strained. And the scar above her lip curled erratically as if it cost the Overseer to admit that her vault wasn’t perfect.  

Nora nodded in understanding as she thumbed through the thick manual. The print against the page was small and dense as if Vault-Tech had wished to notate every possible contingency for the health disorder.  

There were charts. And sketches. Words that were so long and convoluted that they seemed made up.

Nora slammed the book close. Pushed it back across the table.  “How prevalent is it? Vault Depressive Syndrome?”

“We get one or two new cases every year. Some residents are able to snap out of it, come back to themselves after a time. But others…like Belle…the fog lingers. They never recover.” The Overseer leaned forward in her seat. “I say all this, Nora, because as you’re acquainting yourself with the residents, don’t be surprised if some of them are…eccentric. If they say odd things. Make wild claims.”

Nora stared from Overseer Mills to the manual. Back again.

“You’re not in any danger, of course,” Overseer Mills assured. “VDS isn’t contagious and none of the afflicted residents have ever become violent. It’s just…It can be alarming if you’re not expecting it. I’m giving you a heads up.”

_I am Belle._ Repeated like a jangling alarm.

Nora suddenly had a thought. “Maybe the person who sent the emergency broadcast…Maybe they have VDS, and they’re confused. Trying to find help for something they don’t understand.”

“You may be right. And that’s exactly why I need to find this person, Nora. I’m their Overseer. I want to help them. I have their best interests at heart after all.”

And she smiled at Nora. The lipstick on her mouth like drying paint or fresh blood.

“Another drink?” the Overseer asked. Already refilling Nora’s glass.

. . .

“Do you need a tour?” the Overseer asked Nora after they’d conversed a few more minutes and finished half the bottle of apple cider.

Nora shook her head. “It may make folks less willing to open up to me if you’re hovering close by.”

Overseer Mills looked almost offended by the comment. “Am I really that intimidating?”

Nora gave the woman a once-over. The firmly pressed officer’s suit; the high-heeled boots; the ever present gleam in her eye that could have been guardedness. Or malice.

“Only a little bit,” Nora joked. “I’d rank you somewhere between a bloodworm and a Yao Gui.”

Overseer Mills frowned. “I don’t know what either of those things are, but I have a feeling you’ve just insulted me.”

Nora chuckled. Tottered to her feet and stretched lazily.

Overseer Mills watched her; the way the fabric of Nora’s clothing bunched and unbunched around her muscled form.

“You’ve adapted well to the outside,” the Overseer observed. “To the new world.”

Nora paused mid-stretch. “How can you tell?”

“You’re alive.”

And even though there were scars across Nora’s face and arms—disfigurements that would make her unrecognizable to her deceased husband, Nora had to agree. She’d adapted all right. Could wield a gun now with ease. Could outrun a Deathclaw. Snipe from long distance. She even had a kill count.  

“I’m going to get going,” Nora murmured. Suddenly solemn. And she moved towards the office door. “Make myself some friends,” she sing-songed. “Exchange a friendship bracelet or two.”

Overseer Mills smirked. “Don’t cause a ruckus in my vault.”

“I wouldn’t dare, Overseer.”

“ _Regina_ ,” the Overseer corrected. “Call me Regina.”

Nora smiled. And as she moved into the corridor—the guards motionless on each side of her—the combat warrior wavered in her convictions. Again. Who in the hell was she supposed to believe here?  

There was the Overseer. Who seemed straightforward and sincere and genuinely concerned about the well-being of the residents of Vault 108.

And then there was the person who’d sent the emergency broadcast and the note. A nameless, faceless vault resident who was crying murder.

_Well, probably not murder,_ Nora hoped.

Nora needed to find that person. Talk things out. Get to the bottom of whatever disconnect was happening between the Overseer and her charges.


	7. Chapter 7

The residents of Vault 108 _were_ eccentric. But in a good way.

There was Granny, the head cook, who gripped Nora by the wrist the second she saw her and tugged her into the vault’s spacious cafeteria to try her daily special.

Nora had a gargantuan plate of lasagna in front of her before she could even blink, and the combat warrior gamely fielded questions and witticisms from Granny around mouthfuls of cheesy pasta ( _Where in the hell had the vault gotten_ **cheese** _?!)_.

Granny beamed at Nora’s enthusiastic eating. The lasagna disappearing into the woman’s mouth so fast that she nearly choked on it.

“It’s good, in’nit?” Granny asked.

“Best meal I’ve had in 200 years.”

Granny chortled. “Hell of a compliment, dearie. And good to hear that I’m not the oldest bird in this place anymore.”

Nora laughed until she realized she’d gotten down to her last bite. Granny remedied the situation; immediately ladling out another square of the gooey dish.

“So, the Overseer says you’re doing some engineering work for us. That’s why you’re here.”

Granny’s face was all wrinkles and smiles and Nora liked her instantly.  

“Yeah. Fusion core maintenance…Air ventilation…Stuff…”

It was hard to lie when her mouth was full, but Granny accepted the stilted answer. Folded her hands across the plumpness of her belly and eyed Nora curiously.

“I don’t know much about electronics,” the old woman shared, “My area of expertise is the kitchen, but I’m glad we have an extra set of hands around here. Something or another is always falling apart in the vault.”

“It looks pretty immaculate to me.”

“That’s just a veneer, darling. It’s what you _can’t_ see…”

And the cook waggled her eyebrows at Nora; the oval-shaped glasses atop her nose bouncing up and down as if they had a mind of their own.

“You look like a smart one. Should be a right help. And you’re so pretty. You single?”

Nora nearly choked on the lasagna. “What?”

Swallowing was good. Nora chewed, cleared her throat.

“You single?” Granny asked again. “I have a granddaughter about your age. Well…175 years younger seeing as you’re a fossil… I’ve been trying to get her to settle down for years. A pretty girl like you could go a long way convincing her.”

“I’m not…here for that.”

A blush stole across Nora’s skin, warming her from head to toe, and Granny snickered at the reaction. Patting Nora on the shoulder reassuringly before collecting her newly emptied plate.

“Just think about it, eh? My Ruby’s a fine girl. You’d make quite a pair.”

And the old woman smiled at Nora, soft and long, before making her way into the kitchen, dirty dishes in hand.

Nora followed her. Easing into a kitchen that was stuffy and cramped; nothing like it dining area outside.  

“Thank you for the food,” Nora told Granny. “It was delicious.”

Granny was elbow deep in a sink full of dishes. “Any time, dear. The Overseer says you’re our guest, so I want to make sure you feel welcome.”

“Mission accomplished.” Nora leaned against the countertop. Her stomach pleasantly full. Her mind awhirl with questions of her own. “So, how do you like living in a vault?”

“I like it just fine. Don’t have anything to compare it to obviously, but it’s easy living overall. Safe, clean, and quiet. Just the way I like it.”  

“You don’t ever get curious about the outside?”

Granny shook her head. “When I was girl, the thought crossed my mind from time to time. What it was like in the Great Beyond. What kind of people were left…But I’m an old woman now. There’s nothing out there for me. I have my Ruby, and I have my kitchen. I’m satisfied.”

“What about the Overseer? How do you feel about her?”

Granny paused in the midst of her washing, turned a watchful eye on Nora. “You’re doing an awful lot of gabbing, girlie. Aren’t you supposed to be fiddling with fusion cores or something?”

Nora smiled bashfully. “Just passing time while the food settles.”

Granny clucked her tongue but went back to washing. “The Overseer’s a good one. Tough but fair. The Overseer before her…goodness…that idiot spent so much time boozing and carousing that he couldn’t tell his left hand from his right. It was a madhouse around here.” The dishes were loud against each other, Granny jostled them so; the water turning to foam, frothy and opaque. “Things have been calm since Overseer Mills took over. A lot of people didn’t like that she was in charge, her being so young at the time. But she’s proved herself to be a capable leader. Don’t hear a peep now days from her old detractors.”

The old woman looked over her shoulder at Nora, her eyes sharp and wise with age. “Some advice for you, dear. Free of charge, like the meal. Don’t go poking at things ‘round here. Never know what you might find.” And when Nora only stared back at her, her brow tight in confusion, Granny broke the spell by looking away, motioning Nora over. “If you’re gonna chat my ear off the least you can do is dry. Grab that towel over there.”  

Nora moved from the counter to the double-bowled sink; the area around the basin so cramped that her side brushed against Granny’s. She fisted the damp rag between her fingers.

“Fusion cores indeed,” Granny murmured. Her soft laughter a vibration against Nora’s arm.

And the old woman’s eyes moved behind her glasses, quick-like, almost like a wink.

. . .

It went like that with most of the vaulters Nora met that first day. The vaulters were easygoing and welcoming. They invited Nora into their workspaces; their living quarters.

They were curious about Nora. Touched the leather of her combat armor; gazed in awe at the ammunition belts that crisscrossed her chest.

There was a scar that bisected Nora’s throat—purpled with aged and prominent. The vaulters couldn’t stop staring at it. At the smaller marks that dotted Nora’s hands. Old burns and battle scars.

Nora was an oddity to them. A foreigner. A puzzle.

So the vaulters stared and smiled and talked freely. There was no hesitation on their parts. No malice. Just unbridled hospitality.

None of them gave Nora any indication that they’d written the note.

. . .

The school teacher, Mary Margaret, held Nora’s hand the entire time they talked.

Nora had been standing near the classroom examining a fusion box (She figured she should at least _pretend_ to be doing some sort of electrical work. Although she seriously doubted that waving a wrench in the general direction of the fusion box was even _remotely_ convincing), when there was pressure against her right hip. A faint squeeze. And when Nora turned around to discover the source of the touch she encountered the most expressive face she’d ever seen in her life; the widest eyes.

A petite brunette with a pixie cut outfitted in a hideously floral jumpsuit. The woman held Nora in a loose hug.

“Uh…hello?” Nora sputtered. Shocked by the hug; by the twinkling eyes and stitched cotton flowers.

“Mary Margaret Blanchard,” the brunette cooed, “Pleased to make your acquaintance. I’ve been hearing talk about you _all_ day, but I had to wait until lessons were over before I could come introduce myself. I’m so happy to meet you!”

And she hugged Nora. Full-on. Her grip surprisingly strong for someone with such a small frame.  

Nora dropped the wrench.

. . .

“I’ve heard that there are birds on the Outside. Please tell me that there are. What kinds have you seen? Willets? Goldfinches? Chickadees? Please tell me that there are still hummingbirds?”

They’d been holding hands for twenty-five minutes. Twenty- _six_ if the clock on the wall was to be trusted.

Nora was sitting in the classroom; wedged into the tiniest and most uncomfortable desk man had ever designed and Mary Margaret was across from her, talking incessantly. And the school teacher hadn’t yet released the handhold she’d initiated twenty-six minutes ago.

Nora wiggled her fingers. Tried to bring attention to the fact that she and Mary Margaret were still hand-locked.

“You sure do know a lot about birds,” she told Mary Margaret, leaning back in her chair discreetly and trying (and failing) to free her hand.

“Well, of course I know a lot about birds! I’m the vault science teacher. It’s my job to fill our kiddos’ heads with everything there is to know about our earthly creatures.”

Nora suppressed a laugh. Mary Margaret was an odd duck.

 _Duck_. Heh.

Nora _did_ laugh then. Tried to stifle the chuckle with the back of her hand but only succeeded in kissing Mary Margaret’s.

The schoolteacher blushed. Stared wide at Nora with those pretty, expressive eyes.

“I’m flattered Nora. Really, I am. But I must confess that I’m in a serious relationship with Officer Charming at the moment.”

It was only then that Mary Margaret released her hand. Nora could have kissed the woman. Again.

 “Now where was I?” Mary Margaret said. “Oh yes, I’m the vault science teacher, but I also teach English and Etiquette and World History 1942 through 2077.”

“That’s a very specific timeline.”

Nora craned her head around; eyed the exit. Perhaps she could make an escape before Mary Margaret launched into another story. Maybe claim that she needed to use the facilities. Teachers liked handing out bathroom passes, right?

But Mary Margaret prattled on. “That’s as much history as our textbooks contain, I’m afraid. The first day of class my students learn about World War II. The last day of class, we study the Great War. It’s quite depressing. I much prefer to talk about birds.” Mary Margaret cocked her head to the side; and for a moment she resembled a bird herself. “You should give a lecture to my classes!” she said out of the blue.  

“Say what now?”

“You’re an Outsider. The first we’ve ever seen. You must have had so many adventures in the Great Beyond. Have so many stories to share. My students would love to hear some of them.”

“Trust me Mary Margaret, any stories I tell your students about my adventures in the Commonwealth will give them nightmares.”

“Is it that bad out there?”

Nora realized suddenly that she actually _did_ have to use the bathroom, so she didn’t mince words. “Ghastly,” she muttered. Shifting from side to side, trying to find her footing in the restrictive space.

Mary Margaret looked positively forlorn at her words.

“You poor thing,” the schoolteacher tutted.

And suddenly she was hugging Nora again. Draping her entire body across the desk and practically falling over into Nora’s lap.

“What the—?” Nora sputtered. Particularly vexed because the woman was pressing down against her bladder.

“Why isn’t this cozy?”

A voice from behind them. Smoky and full of venom.

 Nora twisted around in her chair to find the Overseer standing at the door of the classroom, her arms folded across her chest. Her trademark frown firmly in place.

“Ms. Blanchard, be so kind as to remove your person from our guest.”

Mary Margaret sprang away from Nora—a flailing of arms and legs that nearly took Nora’s head off. Nora sagged in relief.

“Overseer Mills,” Mary Margaret stammered. “I was just giving Nora a tour of the classroom.”

“And I’m sure she was enjoying the tour you were so energetically providing, but I have business to discuss with Nora, so if you would take your leave of us.”

Mary Margaret nodded obediently before shooting Nora a bashful grin and practically skipping out of the classroom.

Overseer Mills strode over to the teacher’s lectern. Leaned against it and stared down at Nora. Her arms were still folded across her chest and the vault leader looked none too pleased.

Nora eyed the woman. “You look as if you’re about to scold me.”

Overseer Mills sniffed. “I think you’ve had enough teacher-student fun for the day, don’t you?”

Nora groaned. “That wasn’t what it looked like.”

“She was sitting in your lap, dear.”

“She just sort of… _launched_ herself at me.”

The Overseer actually laughed. “She does that. The only way to avoid a Mary Margaret hug is to run. And even then…”

“She’s nice though. I like her.” And at the Overseer’s pointed stare, “Non-romantically.”  

The Overseer sucked her teeth. “Could she have sent the emergency broadcast?”

“I don’t think so. She seems to love it here. Couldn’t sing your praises enough.” Nora wiggled in her seat. “Is that why you came to see me? You wanted an update?”

Overseer Mills readjusted her position; unfolding her arms; crossing one ankle over the other. “A few hours have passed since we spoke. I wanted to check on you.”

The tiniest smile graced Nora’s face. “I’m doing okay.”

Overseer Mills cleared her throat. “And it’s not causing you any distress? Being in a vault for so long, after…?”

Nora released a breath. Suddenly realizing what the Overseer’s surprise visit was really about. “I’m fine,” she said slowly. “I’m not going to freak out or anything. Not going to fall apart.”

“Good.”

The Overseer looked down for a second. Studied the shine of her boots. When her eyes traveled back up, they caught Nora’s. Something there. A type of heat.

 It was Nora who looked away first. “So, Mary Margaret…?”

“What about her?”

“Where exactly did she get the floral jumpsuit?”

“She made it.”

Nora sniggered. “My goodness, she is a walking cartoon character.”

“She’s a walking flower patch, you mean. That jumpsuit is a blatant violation of vault uniform policy.”

“Why’d you let her design it then?”

Overseer Mills heaved a sigh. “Because when Mary Margaret knits, she’s quiet, and the quiet version of Mary Margaret is my favorite. I actually have her working on a bulk order of curtains for the vault.”

“But vaults don’t have windows.”

“I’m aware.”

Nora laughed. And after a few seconds, Overseer Mills joined in. Their eyes met again. Lingered.

“Well…I won’t keep you,” Overseer Mills finally said, breaking the eye contact. “You have residents to speak with and I have a vault to run.” She smoothed out a wrinkle in her uniform before heading towards the door.

“Uh…Regina?”

The Overseer turned on her heels. “Yes?”

“You think you can help me out of this chair?”

This time the Overseer was the only one to laugh.

. . .

Archie Hopper was the vault chaplain. His rimless glasses kept slipping down his nose the entire time he and Nora talked, and the man seemed so timid and shy that Nora doubted seriously that he’d had the nerve to break into the Overseer’s office. But Archie was nice to talk to, and he gave Nora a hard candy after their conversation, so Nora figured he was probably the best person ever.

_Definitely not a suspect._

The vault technician, Leroy, was under the impression that Nora was trying to steal his job, so he refused to talk to her; opting to grunt and gesticulate wildly when she wandered into the maintenance room. He was the grumpy sort but probably not the person Nora was looking for either. Because surely if Leroy had passed along the note, he’d try to get in cahoots with Nora not dropped a claw hammer perilously close to her foot.

. . .

“My grandmother wants us to bang.”

If it was possible to do a spit-take without a glass of water, Nora did just that. Choking a full thirty seconds on her own tongue and trying to draw air into her lungs.

“Wha--?” she finally managed. Her eyes comically wide as she took in the lanky brunette who’d suddenly materialized in front of her.

The brunette smirked. “You heard me. My grandmother totally thinks we should bang it out.”

“Were those her exact words?”

“I cleaned it up a bit.”

The brunette hopped onto the table Nora had been sitting at. Crossed sinfully long legs that were bared by the cropped vault jumpsuit she was wearing. Clearly another violation of the vault uniform policy.

“I’m Ruby,” the woman introduced. Extending a hand. “You the Outsider?”

Nora took the proffered hand, shook. “What gave me away? The body armor?”

Ruby’s eyes swept over Nora appreciatively. “Very form-fitting. Think you can get me one of those?”

Nora snorted. “The Overseer would have my hide if I abetted your attempts to violate her uniform policy.”

Ruby smirked. “What about garters then? Think you can get me a pair? I have a hot date tomorrow night and the closest thing to lingerie the vault has are these adult-sized onesies.”

Nora couldn’t help but laugh. The brunette beauty was a charmer. And funny as hell.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she said, shaking her head in amusement.

Ruby grinned down at her. “Fire-engine red if you can find it.”

And when she winked at Nora, the battled-hardened woman actually giggled.

For the life of her, she couldn’t find the problem in Vault 108. Everyone seemed content here. Even the disgruntled Leroy who was really only a sourpuss because he assumed Nora was after his job.

There was no conspiracy. No smoking gun. No villain as far as Nora could tell.

_I think all of this has been blown out of a proportion._

So of course when she reached that conclusion, all hell broke loose.


	8. Chapter 8

Belle was swinging a pickaxe.

Dangerous arcs that drew closer and closer to the security offers who were trying to restrain her.

“Come on Belle, darling. Put the axe down, will ya? No one’s going to hurt ya.”

A bearded guard was trying to talk Belle down. Graham, Nora remembered. She’d met him in the hallway after her chat with Granny.

Another security officer, Tiana, circled behind Belle, her arms outstretched as if she were offering a hug.

“Come on Belle,” Tiana coaxed. “Put the axe down and I’ll take you to your room. We can have some tea and talk for a bit, okay?”

“I don’t want tea!” Belle swung the axe again, nearly making contact with the adjacent wall. It was clear that she wasn’t trying to strike the guards; she was simply clearing space; keeping the officers back; buying time.

“I don’t want to talk! I just want out of here. My dad is expecting me. And I’ve been gone so long, he must be beside himself with worry.”  

“Belle, honey, your father passed on three summers ago, remember?” Tiana was closer. Avoiding the swinging pickaxe—just barely. Still talking softly, hands outstretched.

“My father isn’t dead!” Belle protested; the pickaxe becoming heavier in her arms; her words slurring in her fatigue “He’s out there. He’s waiting for me. I have to get home.”

Nora watched the scene unfold, dismayed. She’d been standing in the common room, taking a break between chats, when Belle had emerged from the stairwell, a pickaxe in hand. The woman’s eyes had been so sunken within her face that she looked half-alive, like a bumbling ghost. She’d begun swinging the pickaxe in vicious swaths. Even though there were people all around. Even though she could barely lift the heavy weapon past her waist.

Just as Nora had moved forward to intervene, the security officers had appeared.

The two of them circled Belle, closer and closer. The axe like a hungry animal, sniffing. Desperate for blood.

When Belle swung again, the pickaxe curved lazily; a movement so slow that it caught wind; made a sound like cracking thunder.  Graham saw his chance and rushed Belle. Snatching the heavy pickaxe away from her with one hand; using his other to shove Belle towards Tiana.

Tiana grabbed, held on, and Belle sagged in her arms; choked sobs leaving her. Shudders.

The crowd swelled around them. Vaulters whispering amongst themselves; some of them pointing; others sharing concerned looks, tsk-ing beneath their breaths.

_The girl’s lost it, I tell you._

_VDS, I heard._

_Poor girl._

_Poor girl?! Poor us. We’re the ones got to live with a maniac._

Nora expected the guards to restrain Belle. To handcuff her. But Graham simply stared down at the pickaxe in his hand, the part of his face not hidden by his beard drawn and downcast.

Tiana continued to hold Belle; not an arresting motion but one of comfort. And she whispered soothingly into Belle’s ear even as sobbing woman continued to moan.

“Why won’t you let me go?” Belle cried. “I don’t belong here. I just want to go home.”

“Please Belle,” Tiana crooned. “Let me take you to your room.”

It was only when the Overseer appeared; her boots loud against the metal floor; that the crowd begin to disperse. Vaulters wandered back to their workstations, casting doleful stares at Belle.

Until there was only the Overseer, Belle, the guards, Nora.

“What’s happened?!” the Overseer demanded. Her eyes shifting from the sobbing Belle to the pickaxe clutched in Graham’s hands.

“Afraid she’s had another episode ma’am,” Graham offered.

“But that’s two in one day,” the Overseer said disbelievingly.

Graham nodded. “She’s getting worse.”

And even though she was standing not even a foot away and being discussed openly, Belle seemed oblivious to it all; seemed out of it. The tears blanketing her face so torrential that she resembled a drowning woman.

Nora ached for her.

The Overseer turned to Tiana. “Take her to Doctor Whale. After he’s treated her and she’s had some time to rest, bring her to my office. I’ll try to reason with her.”

Tiana nodded then put a supportive arm around Belle’s waist. Led the trembling woman away.

Graham couldn’t tear his eyes away from the pickaxe. The solidness of the wood; the red of its blade.

His voice wavered. “Never seen nothing like that before. Belle’s sweet as they come, but she was on the warpath.” When he finally raised his head, his eyes were wide with concern. “She could have really hurt someone.”

The axe so heavy that he finally had to set it down. Kicked it away with his boot as if the axe was the aggressor and not Belle.

“I’ll take her out of maintenance,” the Overseer said. “She won’t have access to tools or anything that can be used as a weapon. And I’ll tell Whale to increase the dosage on her medication.”

“Never seen _anything_ like that,” Graham repeated. Almost like he was in a trance. “Even the radroaches don’t present this much trouble.”

“Graham—” The Overseer’s voice was sharp, demanding attention. “I want you to put the axe away and secure the maintenance room. I’ll go speak with Dr. Whale. During evening meal we will reassure the residents that everything is fine and that Belle is in safe hands. Understood?”

Graham was too busy staring at the felled pickaxe. “She kept mentioning her dad,” he whispered. “It gutted me. It isn’t right…what we’re doing. Perhaps we should--”

“Not another word, Graham.”

The Overseer was seething, and she shot a glance in Nora’s direction before moving to her officer’s side, speaking into his ear. “Put away the axe,” she said forcefully. “Then come see me in my office.”

Graham swallowed.  “Yes, Overseer.”

He retrieved the pickaxe. Marveling for a second at its heaviness—it’s potential for violence. Then he marched in the direction of the maintenance room.

When he was out of earshot, Overseer Mills finally exhaled. Walked a few feet away, stretching her back and staring moodily at the ceiling.

“This thing can’t beat us,” she said to the tile; to Nora; to anyone who would listen. “I won’t let it.”

Nora studied her. “What did Graham mean when he said ‘It’s wrong,’ what you’re doing?”

The Overseer cut her eyes at Nora; before curling her lip. “Not everyone believes that medication is the best way to treat VDS. The doses are high. Can cause stupor. But what other choice do I have? Clearly Belle’s condition isn’t improving.”

 “Perhaps she should be sequestered.” Nora suggested softly.

“No.”

“You didn’t see her, Regina. Graham is right. She could have seriously hurt someone with that pickaxe. I don’t think she wanted to, but intent really doesn’t matter if someone is badly injured or even killed.”

“Killed?” Regina scoffed. “You’re overdramatizing. This is a vault not the Outside. We don’t kill people here.”

“She had a pickaxe.”

“And the guards got it away from her.”

“This time. Next time she could have a gun.”

The Overseer’s eyes narrowed and she marched a straight line to Nora, incensed. “What would you have me do, Nora? Lock Belle away? Throw her in a holding cell as punishment for being _sick_?! That’s not the way I run things in my vault.”

She was angry; her chest heaving with it; her face so close to Nora’s that they shared breath.

“I’m only trying to help,” Nora stated quietly. Trying to calm the Overseer.

It didn’t work.

“You want to help? Then find the person who broke into my office. That’s what you’re here for. And _only_ that. Any other assistance you’d like to offer is unwanted.”

They stared into each other’s eyes. A different sort of heat this time. Contempt.

And whatever had been developing between the two women—a certain awareness and pull that had been simmering and expanding slowly—it evaporated.

The Overseer stalked away, and Nora was left with her thoughts.

. . .

She needed a smoke break.

Hadn’t smoked since college when she was a law student pulling all-nighters and desperate for anything that would take her mind off torts and civil procedure.

She would steal smokes in the school lavatory; the embers burning her skin; a handheld flame. Inhaling and releasing so much smoke that she smelled of it hours later when she got back home; curled up next to Nate and breathed him in instead. His aftershave; the mint of his mouth; the unique smell of ocean and grass that was all him.

She’d stopped smoking when she got pregnant with Sean. Burned sage instead. Preparing her home and body for new life like her grandmother taught her all those years ago.

_Keeps away the bad feeling_ , her grandma used to say. Lighting so many sticks of the incense that they seemed like candles flickering.

But Nora didn’t have sage this time around. Didn’t even have a cigarette to lose herself in. She sat in the lowest part of the vault she could find—the basement—and stared at the metal walls. Thought of Nate and Sean. Of Cait and Piper. Donny Kowalski. And a swinging pickaxe. _I am Belle._

That’s where Mulan found her. On the bottommost step of the basement; sucking the hard candy that Archie had given her because she didn’t have a cigarette.

Mulan startled her; squeezing in beside her on the step; their sides brushing. The air weighted and heavy with silence; the cavernousness of the basement.

“I figured it was you who sent the note,” Nora finally said. The candy melting on her tongue like a first kiss; like that very first sip of cider.

Mulan simply nodded. Stared straight ahead. She wasn’t dressed like a guard today, and without the bulky uninform the woman appeared smaller; defenseless.

“You said she’s evil,” Nora stated. Beginning in the middle of the conversation.

“She is.”

“I don’t see it.”

“That’s because you don’t want to.”

Nora sighed. Leaned down until her forehead met her knees. A way to find breath. Composure.

“What has she done?” Nora asked reluctantly.

Mulan waited until Nora had righted herself; until she’d turned her boy enough that they could meet each other’s eyes.

“She abducted us,” Mulan said softly. “She stole our memories.”


	9. Chapter 9

“What?!”

Mulan shuddered. As if a weight had been lifted from her chest after such an admission. “The Overseer took our memories,” she repeated.

“That’s impossible.”  

Mulan looked away from her. Stared instead at the metal walls that had transfixed Nora just moments before. “Anything’s possible in this world,” she said sadly. “You should know that.”

Nora laughed. Broken and insincere. “Fucking vaults,” she exclaimed. “I thought the Commonwealth was bizarre but _this_ …”

Mulan continued on as if she hadn’t heard her. “I’ve been trying to work out how she did it. How she got me here and erased my memories.”

Nora shook her head. “You’re not well Mulan.”

“Maybe she put something in the drinking water. Or there’s some hallucinogen that she pumps through the air filtration system...”

“You should lie down--”

“Or the food. There could be chemicals in the food. She’s always in the nursery messing around with those apples of hers. That’s probably it…”  

“Listen to yourself, Mulan. Now, I’ve seen some fucked up shit in vaults before but mass abductions? Mind control? How in the hell could one person manage all that?”

“You don’t know the Overseer. She’s more than capable.”

“What, does she have magic powers? ‘Cause that’s the only way she’d be able to pull off something of this magnitude. Something this outlandish.”

Nora stood up. Paced away from Mulan. From the wild claim the woman had just made.

“I’m never completing a mission for Preston ever again,” she griped.

Mulan’s hands balled into fists on her lap. “I’m telling you the truth! Someway, somehow--Overseer Mills plucked me from the outside and bought me here. She gave me a jumpsuit and a work detail and a lifetime’s worth of false memories. She’s evil!”

Nora could only shake her head pityingly. “Mulan…”

“I had a house,” Mulan insisted. “Right by the water. It wasn’t much but it was mine. And there was a spot on the porch where I would sit and look at the stars. Every night.” She stared at Nora with beseeching eyes. “How can I recall the outside, sea and stars if I’m from a vault?”

“I don’t know, Mulan. It could be a hallucination. You’ve been stuck in a vault for over twenty years. You could be having a…” Nora hesitated. “…a nervous breakdown.”

“That’s not what this is! Ask Belle. She’s from the Outside too. Her memories came back not long ago and they started pumping her full of drugs. Ask Belle. She knows.”

Nora’s eyes narrowed in thought.

Belle swinging a pickaxe and screaming: _I don’t belong here. I just want to go home._  

Nora shook her head. “Belle’s sick.”

“That’s what they want you to believe. Vault Depressive Syndrome…some illness they invented to make it seem like Belle’s insane. So no one will listen to her.”

“It’s not made up. There’s an entire manual on the disorder. I’ve seen it.”

Mulan sighed, frustrated. “You can’t trust the Overseer, Nora. She lies. She seems sincere. Like she cares about us. But she’s a snake.”

“She’s a snake and a kidnapper and a wizard apparently,” Nora said sarcastically. She still couldn’t fathom it; what Mulan was alleging. “I spoke to dozens of vaulters today, Mulan. Your friends. Your neighbors. Not a single person had a bad word to say about the vault _or_ the Overseer. They all love it here.”

“They’ve been _brainwashed_. The entire lot of them.”  

“For heaven’s sake…”

“The Overseer’s hypnotized them some way. I stopped eating the food from the mess hall. Eat from cans only and boil all the water I drink. Maybe that’s why my real memories are resurfacing.  My mind’s not contaminated any longer with whatever they’re using to control us.”

Nora knelt in front of Mulan. Put a hand against the woman’s knee. “You should rest Mulan. Maybe talk to the chaplain. He’s nice. He could help you work through whatever…issues you seem to be having.”

“I’m not crazy.”

Nora sat back on her heels. “I’m not saying that you are, but…” She sighed. “Why aren’t you wearing your uniform, Mulan? Why weren’t you guarding the vault door this morning?” A muscle ticked in Mulan’s jaw. “You were relieved of duty weren’t you?” Nora guessed.  

Mulan sneered. “Dr. Whale says that I have VDS. Acute and debilitating. I start treatment tomorrow. He and the Overseer are going to medicate me right back into unconsciousness.”

“So the good doctor’s in on it too, huh?”

“He’s the Overseer’s lap dog. A few of the guards are in her pocket too, but they sacked me before I could figure out which.”

“So it’s one giant conspiracy and you and Belle are the only sane ones.”

“We’re the ones who _remember_.”

Nora shook her head sadly. Her face awash with pity.

“You don’t believe a word I’ve said, do you?” Mulan asked.

“How can I, Mulan? If you’d said the Overseer was trying to clone you, or…I dunno…suspend all the vaulters in virtual reality pods, I might have believed you. I’ve seen such monstrosity. I’ve witnessed firsthand the type of cruelty human beings can inflict on one another. But not even the _worst_ of the baddies I’ve encountered could have dreamed up a scheme like this. Let alone pull it off. You expect me to believe that the Overseer and a _single_ doctor could kidnap hundreds of people, transport them to the vault, and implant them with new memories?”

“That’s what’s happened.”

Nora stood to her feet. “Fine. I’ll ask the Overseer outright then. See if there’s any truth to what you’re saying.”

“You can’t! She’ll kill me. She’ll kill _you_.”

“So she’s a murderer too?” Nora let loose an exasperated laugh. Ran her fingers through her hair; felt a migraine coming.

“She’s a murderer, yes.” Mulan was solemn; hunched over. The fierceness that she’d presented upon Nora’s first meeting her conspicuously absent. “Years ago, one of the vault engineers…Daniel…he figured out what they were up to and he tried to open the vault door. He wanted to free everyone, send them home. But he never even made it past the vault tunnel. They killed him.”

There was a draft in the basement and it chilled Nora; edged along the back of her neck.

“Daniel was the Overseer’s fiancé,” Mulan continued. “And she had him killed. What do you think she would do to me? Or to you?”  Mulan rubbed at a spot on her throat; her fingers trembling. “Won’t be long before they silence Belle. Then I’ll be next.”

Nora didn’t want to believe Mulan. _Couldn’t_ believe her. It was impossible what she was saying. Mind control. Murder. Conspiracy. Not even an operation like the Brotherhood of Steel or the enterprising Institute were capable of such deviousness.

But she had to be sure.

“I won’t tell the Overseer that it was you who sent the emergency broadcast,” Nora promised Mulan. Easing past the woman onto the staircase; ready to head upstairs and confront head-on the terribleness that had just been revealed to her.

“Go back to pretending Mulan,” Nora said, before ascending the stair. “No more talk of the outside; of stars; of your little house by the sea. You are Officer Mulan of Vault 108 and you love it here.” Her voice was firm; mandating. “Even if you don’t believe it, _pretend_. We can’t have them tranquilizing you. Because if you _are_ telling the truth, and the Overseer is as evil as you claim, I’m going to need your help taking her down.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

Tact.

It would require tactfulness and cunning if Nora was to unearth the secrets of Vault 108.

The Overseer could be evil. Mulan could be hallucinating. The truth could lie somewhere between. But Nora couldn’t go into the situation guns blazing ( _Not that I even have my guns at the moment_ ). She would have to be calm and alert. No accusations just yet. It could endanger Belle, Mulan, the entire vault.

 _And I don’t think she’s evil_ , a refrain in her head. _No matter what Mulan says. She can’t be evil._

A throwback to her days as an attorney. Innocent until proven otherwise.

But another, quieter voice in her head offered a rebuttal: “You just don’t want her to be.”

. . .

The Overseer was a workaholic. Had to be. Nora found the vault leader in her office. Behind her desk (of course); her posture straight and firm even at this late hour. But there was an air of tiredness around the woman; a few strands of hair that had escaped their confines; draped across her neck; repose.

And the Overseer had a visitor.

Nora stood at the office door and waited until she was acknowledged.

“I’m telling you Regina, one more incident and something will have to be done.”

The visitor. A woman.

All Nora could make out was the long curve of neck; a posture as stiff as the Overseer’s.

“It won’t come to that,” Regina responded tiredly. “Trust me.”

“And why should I trust you? You’ve proven your incompetence time and again. I’m beginning to question whether you’re even suited for this job.”

“I’m doing my best, Mother.”

Nora startled at the term. Thought a second about stepping back into the corridor and giving the two women some privacy, but her curiosity got the better of her. Nora lingered in the doorway, listening.

“If this is your best, Regina, then I really _am_ concerned,” Regina’s mother replied. And even though her voice was low—without inflection—there was an acerbity to the woman’s voice that chilled Nora. Sent goosebumps skittering across her skin. “Your reign as Overseer is beginning to be as inept as the previous one’s.”

Regina’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Don’t compare me to him. Leopold was an oaf and a drunkard who couldn’t be bothered with the day-to-day operations of the vault. I’m actually qualified for the job. And I care about the residents.”

“And that’s the problem right there, Regina. Haven’t I taught you that unchecked emotion is weakness? The residents of Vault 108 need a firm hand not sentimentality.”

Regina huffed beneath her breath and her mother smiled. “Don’t pout, dear. It causes wrinkles.”

It was only when the Overseer rolled her eyes at her mother that she spotted Nora by the door.

“Nora--” she exclaimed. Steadying herself against her desk before rising to her feet. “Do come in,” she stated breathlessly.

Nora walked a few paces into the office. Stood awkwardly near the visitor chairs. On full display for Regina’s mother.  

A woman with jet-black hair and even darker eyes. Lips that turned down when she saw Nora.

“Nora, this is my mother Cora,” Regina introduced with a wave of her hand.

Nora pantomimed a smile. “It rhymes,” she joked. Extending a hand towards the older woman.

But Cora simply stared at Nora; at the proffered hand that was littered with scars and burn marks. The woman’s frown deepened.

“I have a pair of gloves in my bureau, dear,” Cora told Nora. “I’ll gift them to you. A lady should never present herself so sullied.”

“Mother!” Regina rebuked. Her face thunderous.

And Nora retracted her hand. Clenched it into a fist and stuffed it into the pocket of her leathers.

Cora smirked; rising from the visitor’s chair with the same level of grace and poise that Regina possessed. Even more. She turned a circle to address her daughter; presenting her back to Nora. Blatant dismissal.

“Remember what I said, dear,” Cora stated. Her eyes narrow slits even as she smiled wide. “One more incident, and I’ll be forced to intervene.”

Regina blinked at her; her faced reddened with embarrassment and anger.

“Do you understand?” Cora asked. One of her hands coming to rest against Regina’s cheek.

If it was intended to be an affectionate gesture, it failed. Regina flinched.

“Yes, Mother.”

“Good.”

And Cora turned on her heels. Gliding out of the room as if she owned it.

“I’ll leave the gloves with the gate guards,” she called over her shoulder. Not even bothering to spare Nora a parting glance.

Nora released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “So that’s mom?” she asked weakly.

Regina sighed. Immediately crossed over to her liquor cabinet. Poured herself a drink.

“Want one?” she asked Nora. Before draining the liquor in one gulp.

Nora’s eyes bugged; impressed. “Something strong,” she requested. Before flopping down into one of the vacant visitors’ chairs.

Regina filled two glasses with clear liquid. Then she strode over to Nora. Extended one of the tumblers.

“Scotch,” she said.

And she surprised Nora when she opted for the chair at Nora’s side, settling in a hairsbreadth away. Drinking her alcohol and closing her eyes after every sip.

Nora was content to let the silence lengthen. She let the liquor burn down her throat—ironic really, how sobering alcohol could be—and she slouched lower in her chair. Definitely not graceful. Definitely not ladylike. It made her recall Cora’s word about her hands, and Nora stared at the fingers encircling her glass. The brown of her skin but also brown from heavy scarring.

Regina seemed to sense her thoughts. “Don’t worry about Mother,” she said. Her eyes open now; tracing Nora’s hands. “She has a thing about scars. Doesn’t thing a lady should collect them.”  
Nora harrumphed. Choked down another mouthful of the bitter drink.

“When I was girl, I wasn’t even allowed to play with the other children,” Regina said wistfully. Staring into the depths of her glass. “Mother thought I would slip and fall, knick myself in some way. Eight years old and I was forbidden from hop-scotch and tetherball. Made to sit and be good and be quiet.”

Regina’s voice was strained, and Nora blinked up at her. Warmed by the alcohol; chilled by the words.

Regina breathed in and out. Steady. A metronome that Nora could fall asleep to.

“But then I fell anyway. Walking down the stairs. Broke my wrist and got this scar above my lip.” Regina smiled and the scar smiled along with her. “Mother was furious. Said that such a prominent scar made me look common. Was unbecoming.”

A hitch in her voice. Faint but there.

“She’s wrong.”

Nora didn’t mean to say it, but it was out before she could stop it. There. Between them now. Expanding.

Regina stared at her. The brown of her eyes made even more radiant by fluorescent lighting.

“Yes, she is,” Regina agreed. And she reached out—the very tip of her finger—grazing the back of Nora’s hand. Moving along the ridges and idents of old scars. Learning. 

Nora inhaled. Exhaled. Counted breath.

Regina touched. Her finger on Nora’s wrist now. Her pulse point. Moving.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Regina said. Two fingers now. Pressing, retreating. Back again. Smoothing across a knuckle. “What I said to you. My tone. I was upset about Belle, and I lashed out. I shouldn’t have.”

“It’s okay.” 

Nora sighed; tremulous. Sat forward in her chair; breaking their contact.

Regina’s hand fluttered in the air for a moment—without purpose—then fell back into her lap. Clenched tight.

Both women drank their alcohol. Lost in their thoughts.

The only sound, the clock on the wall ticking. The second hand moving, unhurried, on time.

“Did you find who sent the emergency broadcast?” Regina asked finally. Ending the quiet.

The question bought Nora back to the present; back to the task at hand. Belle. Mulan.

“No,” Nora answered. “These things take time.”

“Of course.”

Regina was watching her. Nora could feel the heat of her gaze. It made her want.

“I should go,” Nora said. Setting her empty glass on the desk. Earning a frown from Regina who scooped it up; returned both glasses to her liquor cabinet.

“It’s late. Should you be traveling at night? Isn’t it dangerous?”

“It’s dangerous at all hours in the Commonwealth.”

Regina frowned. Disquieted by the remark. “We have guest quarters,” she volunteered.

Nora shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t think I can manage staying overnight in a vault,” she admitted.

“I understand.”

Nora stood there for a second. Fiddling with a loose string in her pocket. Procrastinating. Then she turned towards the door.

“You’ll be back, right?” Regina suddenly asked. Her voice uncharacteristically high-pitched. Needful. And when Nora turned back around, she saw that the vault leader had drifted closer. Only a foot away now.

And at that angle, at that late hour, Nora could see the softness of her. The fatigue around the woman’s eyes; the heaviness. The unforgiving weight of being Vault Overseer.  

“I’ll be back,” Nora promised.

And the smile she received—it lanced through Nora. Filled something inside that had been wanting and thirsty.

A stubborn loneliness, unmoored.

 _Please,_ she thought. As she took her exit of the office; the second floor; the vault tunnel; Vault 108. _Please be who you say you are._


	11. Chapter 11

_Publick Occurrences_ was Diamond City’s sole newspaper. Probably the last remaining news publication in the entirety of the Commonwealth. Only a few serials were printed a week—usually detailing the going-ons of the city: market sales, criminal mischief, political scandal, wedding announcements.

The paper was run by none other than Piper Wright. Diamond City Public Enemy # 1 and formerly one of Nora’s best friends.

The intrepid news reporter scowled when Nora entered her office. “We’re closed,” she grumbled. Typing away furiously at her keyboard and refusing to give Nora even a smidgen of attention.

“Good,” Nora replied easily. “That gives you and me some much needed quality time.”

Nora snagged the chair opposite Piper’s desk and turned it around before straddling it. She fixed pained eyes on Piper.

“Long time Pipes.”

“I’m busy here, Blue. Got a deadline fast approaching and the stupid ‘E’ key on this keyboard is sticking again!”

And Piper pressed down on the offending key, _hard_. Making the keyboard and computer rattle briefly; squeak.

“Want me to look at it?” Nora offered. Reaching forward instinctively.

“No, thanks.”

Nora frowned. The silent treatment.

Piper had been freezing Nora out for months now. Had perfected this particular form of cruelty. And even now, months later, the rejection still stung.

“How long are we going to do this Piper?” Nora asked.

“Do what?”

The news reporter typed away; the pink of her tongue peeking out between her lips as she hyperfocused on her article.

“Ignore each other. Pass each other on the street without speaking. You don’t even come out with me on jobs anymore.”

“Look Blue, I didn’t mind being your plus-one when you were fresh out of the vault and naïve to the ways of the Commonwealth, but I have a newspaper to run, you know, and a little sister to look after. I can’t go traipsing across the desert just ‘cause you need a sidekick.”

“That’s not what this is about and you know it!”

Piper stopped typing; turned slitted eyes on Nora. “Still working with the Brotherhood of Steel?” she asked. Her voice cold and dripping.

“I have to make a living Piper.”

“Make a living…ha!” Piper cut her eyes at Nora. Went back to typing. “You said that when we finished with the whole Institute business, we’d be done with the Brotherhood of Steel. You _promised_ me.”

“The Brotherhood isn’t as bad as you think Piper--”

“They’re a greedy, militaristic, war-crazed conclave that wants to take over the Commonwealth just like they did with the Capital Wasteland. And you’re abetting their colonialist ambitions--”

Nora sighed and rubbed at her temples. “Let’s not have this argument again.”

“I agree. Let’s _not_. You can see yourself out.”

And it was clear she wasn’t typing any longer. Just banging loudly on the keyboard; trying to purge some of her turbulent emotion.

“Three years of friendship down the drain because of the Brotherhood of Steel?” Nora queried softly. And Piper flinched. Looked momentarily chastised.

“You were the first friendly face I saw out of the vault, Piper. You bought me a hot meal. Found me someplace to stay. My very first friend.”

Piper exhaled. Closed her eyes. Wavering. But the hurt won out. “I’m sure Cait’s doing a fine job replacing me.”

“She’s not speaking to me either.” And suddenly Nora was incensed. “What are we…in middle school?! The two of you have a falling out and now none of us can be friends? We made a good team once upon a time.”

“We were _never_ a team. I was there for _you_. Cait was there for _you--_ ”

“And now neither of you are.” Nora put a hand against the one Piper had clenched on the keyboard. “I miss you Pipes.”

Piper blinked rapidly. A wetness around her eyes. “I…”

There was a commotion from the back room. Distracting. Piper’s teenaged sister came tottering out, struggling beneath a heavy box.

Nora jumped up to help her. “Nat,” she said, smiling. Relieving the young woman of the oversized container. “You get taller every time I see you.”

Nat smiled; slung an arm around Nora’s waist and squeezed. “Haven’t seen you in ages Nora. You’re never around anymore. Piper says you have property all over the Commonwealth. That you’re a land baron or something.”

Nora laughed. Wrinkled her nose at Piper before turning back to Nat. “A reluctant landlord,” she clarified. “It keeps me busy and the pay is shit.”

“Don’t swear in front of my sister,” Piper complained.

Nora rolled her eyes. “Where do you want the box?” she asked Piper.

“By the door please. It’s our new publication. An explosive exposé that proves that Mayor McDonough is really a synth. I have to sell at least a hundred copies if we want to be able to afford lights for the month.”

Nora hefted the box to her hip and managed to get it to the door. She set the box of newspapers on the ground.

“I can spot you some caps Piper,” she offered.

But the news reported raised a hand, interrupting. “We pay our own way,” she said fiercely. Then directed her attention to Nat. “Natalie, why don’t you take a few bundles and circle the promenade? It’s lunch time. Most folks enjoy a good read with their meal.”

Nat nodded and grabbed an armful of rolled papers. She smiled at Nora before heading for the door. “See you later Nora,” the teenager chirped. “Maybe we can catch a baseball game like old times.”

Nora gave her best attempt at a smile. “Maybe so Nat.”

She gazed out of the window into the bustling market. Watched as Nat disappeared down an uneven street.

“She was knee-high when I came out of the vault,” Nora mused. “Now she’s nearly tall as me.”

“Getting a bit big for her britches too. She’s been saying lately that she doesn’t want to finish school. Wants to go on the road with me and write stories.”

Nora turned around. Gave her friend a smile. “She looks up to you. Always has.”  

Piper huffed irritably. Pushed away from her desk and stomped over to one of the multitudinous filing cabinets that filled her office. The news reporter began poking around inside. “I’m not one to emulate, Blue. Do you know how many bounties I have on my head? How many times I’ve only _just_ managed to avoid an assassin’s bullet?” She looked up from the file folders; her eyes drawn and sad. “I don’t want that life for Nat. The Commonwealth’s dangerous enough as it is. If she follows in my footsteps, she won’t make it to fifteen.”

Nora walked over to her. Put a comforting hand against Piper’s side. Because that’s what they used to do back when they were friends. They comforted each other.

“Nothing’s going to happen to Nat, Piper. You won’t let it. And neither will I.”

The beginnings of a smile on Piper’s face. A thawing maybe. Finally.

But after a few seconds the news reporter pulled away. Returned to her desk and keyboard. Left Nora staring down into a sea of manila folders.

It hurt more than Nora could express.

“Piper, I have a favor to ask of you. You can say no if you want. You probably _will_ say no…”

The anticipation of rejection making Nora trail off.

Piper looked up. “What is it?”                                                                       

“You remember back when I was looking for Sean and you had all those missing person reports stored away in boxes?”

“Yeah. Me and you spent days poring through them trying to see if there was a notice about your son.”

Nora gave a pained smile. “Yeah.”

The beginning of their friendship.

Piper’s brow furrowed in confusion, curiosity. “Why? Someone else you know go missing?”

“Maybe. I don’t know…”

If Mulan actually _had_ been abducted…If Belle had been…Perhaps a member of their families had filed a missing person report. Turned it over to the sole news publication in the Commonwealth.

It was a long shot but Nora didn’t know where else to start. 

“You still have those reports?” she asked Piper.

Piper sighed. Eyes traveling over the cluttered space that made up _Publick Occurences_. There were boxes on top of boxes and so much loose paper that it presented a fire hazard.

“They’re in here somewhere,” Piper said. “Might take me a few days to fish them out.”

“Will you find them for me?” Nora asked. The hesitation creeping into her voice without consent.

Piper thought about it. Her press cap casting a shadow over her eyes.

“Yeah, Blue,” she finally responded. “I’ll do that for you.”

And Nora smiled.

. . .

There was a group of raiders on the road between Diamond City and the harbor where Donny Kowalski lived. The armed brigands rushed Nora; flanking her expertly.  The glint of the crude weapons they carried—rusted knives and splintered baseball bats—flashing before Nora’s eyes; a threat of what was to come.

They outnumbered her. Eight against one. Their whoops and hollers an indication that they already considered themselves victorious. As they crept closer, a tightening circle, Nora realized that this was another consequence of being friendless. Not having backup or fire support. Not having someone to cover your body if you were unceremoniously murdered on the road.

But she’d been fighting in the Commonwealth for far too long (her entire life really. Even before the war when the Commonwealth was just Boston), so Nora gripped her weapon and gritted her teeth. If she was going to die today, she wouldn’t go quietly. She said as much to her approaching attackers; firing an opening shot and noting with some satisfaction when the bullet made purchase.

A fight.

More equitable than she thought since she had armor and a shotgun and the raiders were fighting in threadbare tunics with melee weapons.

She’d taken down four of them; the other four still approaching; when a blade caught her in the shoulder; struck skin and stayed.

Blood, more of it now, because the raider was tugging; trying to rip her arm off.

Nora pointed her gun upwards, pulled the trigger, saw red.

A curtain of blood across her face. His; hers.

She stumbled backwards; the cleaver still lodged in her shoulder. Fired three more shots. Hitting, missing.

Another raider went down. The last two making escape.

Nora sank to one knee. Breathing hard. _Keep breathing_.

There could be more of them. Was always more of them. She didn’t have time to rest, to recover.

She removed the cleaver with some effort. Left a golf ball-sized hole in her shoulder; saw stars. Tending the wound would have to wait. There could be more of them. Coming. Always coming.

And the fresh bodies would attract worse than raiders.  Creatures that slaked their thirst with blood.

. . .

Donny cried when he saw her. A limping mess she was with blood running steady rivulets down her mangled arm. Her shotgun cradled in the arm that still worked.

“Nora!” the little boy cried. Running over and pulling at the bloody limb; trying to help but only causing Nora to wince in pain. Nearly fall over with shock.

“I just need to lie down,” she told the boy. Dropping her shotgun because she needed to hug him and the other arm had numbed; refused to move. “Help me inside,” she croaked against his hair.

The little boy put an arm around her; tried to bear her weight as he guided her toward his tilting shack.

“Danse!” he called out. “Danse! Please help. It’s Nora. She’s hurt.”

And before she lost consciousness, Nora saw her old friend round the corner of Donny’s shack.

Paladin Danse, former officer in the Brotherhood of Steel, who’d kissed Nora three months ago and, consequently, ruined their friendship.

. . .

She came to in stages.

There was pressure against her head; throbbing. As if her mind was trying to escape her; split her open.

A murmur of sound like a television with the volume turned low. Persistent and mumbling.

And the cottonness of her mouth. A smidgen of blood tingeing her lips.

“Water,” she managed to whisper.

And it was there before she even had time to close her mouth. A cool stream of water sliding; sliding down, cooling her; refreshing. Until her tongue felt alive again; whole. Until the blood had been swept away, now gone.

“Gave us a fright, you did.”

And when she’d stopped drinking and opened her eyes, Danse was there; leaning over her. His face as round and kind as ever. His beard untrimmed and windblown.

“Where’s Donny?” she asked. Worried. Because the last she’d seen of the little boy, he’d been red-faced and bawling.

“He’s outside practicing with his slingshot.” Danse nodded at Nora’s bandaged shoulder. “He’s planning to take on whoever did that to you.”

Nora snorted. Felt a pain seize her at the motion and grimaced. Tried her best to sit up in the bed. A struggle.

“Thanks for patching me up,” she told Danse.

“Of course.”

And he set the drinking glass on the bedside table before helping Nora adjust herself against Donny’s thin pillows.

Danse’s hands lingered against Nora’s waist and Nora could feel the impression of him even through the body armor.

Danse was busy studying the strips of gauze attached to Nora’s bared shoulder.

“I did the best I could with what I had, but you’ll probably still need to see a doctor once you’re back in the city. Might even need a sling.”

Nora snorted again and it hurt less this time. “Can you imagine me walking around the Commonwealth in a sling? That’ll really make me a target for raiders.”

Danse chuckled. But when his eyes latched onto Nora’s, there was concern there. “I worry about you Nora. You spend so much time bouncing back and forth between settlements, and the Brotherhood of Steel and the Railroad work you like you’re one of their own.”

“I can take care of myself Danse.” And she wiggled her injured shoulder. Tried to test its mobility. “I’ve experienced way worse than this.”

“I know.” They’d fought alongside each other. Had both been injured too many times too count. “I’m not trying to coddle you,” he insisted. “It’s just that…I care.”

His eyes unguarded.

No matter how much plating he was wearing…If he sank the entirety of his body into that gargantuan power armor he owned… He always left his eyes unguarded. With her.

“I know you care Danse.” Her right hand against his, which hadn’t left her hip. “I care about you too.”

And she did. Loved him even. Had risked her life so that the Brotherhood of Steel wouldn’t execute him.

But he wanted more from Nora than she could give. And he reminded Nora too much of a love that she had long buried. She patted Danse’s hand. A comfort. But also a reminder to him that his hands were too low; out of place.

The former soldier realized and jerked his hands away; blushing.

To avoid the crimson of his face, Nora stared outside. Through the smudged window of Donny’s shack. She could see the boy, just barely, making wild gestures outside; practicing kicks; hurling rocks with his weaponized toy.

“You know, I’ve been trying to convince him for years to come live with me in Diamond City,” Nora murmured.

“Donny?”

Nora nodded. “He refuses. Thinks his mom might come back one day and he wants to be here waiting for her.”

Danse’s voice was soft. Kind. “Sometimes moms _do_ come back,” he whispered. A token for Nora. A reminder of her fierce pursuit of her own lost child.

Nora’s eyes watered. A pain more piercing than the one in her shoulder.

“He can’t stay here Danse. I’m afraid that one day I’m going to come to this dock and he’ll be gone.”

Danse nodded. “I feel the same way.”

Nora looked at Danse. A smile on her face; incongruous with the wet of her eyes. “I’m glad that he has you. That you look out for him.”

Danse ducked his head; bashful. “He reminds me of myself at that age. I grew up alone in the Commonwealth too. Spent most of my childhood picking through the ruins and selling scrap. I was lost. Lonesome. If the Brotherhood of Steel hadn’t found me; recruited me as one of their own…I don’t know what would have become of me. We all need a little help sometimes.”

“You made good of yourself Danse.”

The former soldier shook his head. “I don’t know about that. Disgraced soldier. Living on the run. Without a pot to piss in. I’m right back to where I started.”

Nora squeezed his hand. “I oversee thirty settlements Danse. Most of them thriving. Their own little communities. You can have a home if you want it. You don’t have to be alone.”

He stared down at her hand. Hers small against his but just as calloused. Strong. Then his gaze shifted to the window. To Donny Kowalski fighting imaginary foes.

“I’m not alone,” he replied.

And when his hand curled around Nora’s—their fingers twining—it was less intense than their kiss from months ago, but more fulfilling, more _real_. And it felt like something had righted between them. Something soft and precious restored.


	12. Chapter 12

“I’ll be with you in a minute, Nora. Have a seat.”

The Overseer didn’t look away her computer. She was too busy typing; scribbling away at a notepad on her desk before returning her attention to the computer terminal. Typing and scribbling; a flurry of activity. How the woman managed to stay sane under such a heavy workload, Nora couldn’t comprehend.

Nora eased into the visitor’s chair, trying not to jostle her injured shoulder. It had been a week since she’d last been in the vault—since she’d been injured—and her shoulder was better but not fully healed.

She folded a leg over the other, trying to get comfortable. Then frowned when a scrap of fabric edged its way out of her pocket. She shot a worried glance at the Overseer before pushing the item back down.

She needn’t have worried. The Overseer was laser focused; her mouth pressed into a thin line as she finished up her work.

A few more taps of the keyboard. “There, that should do it,” the Overseer said triumphantly. “Another budget report reconciled and it only took me six hours.”

Nora grinned; amused. “Congratulations.”

Regina smirked at her before shutting down her computer. Then she did a double take. “You’re in a sling,” she said, incredulous.

Nora shrugged. Immediately winced.

_Idiot. That’s shoulder’s injured remember?_

“Eh…It’s pretty much healed, but Dr. Sun wouldn’t let me leave his office without one. Do you know how hard it is to put on body armor when you’re wearing a sling?”

She tried to make light of the situation but the Overseer was not amused. Regina stalked around the desk until she was standing in front of Nora. “Up,” she commanded.

Nora raised an eyebrow but did as she was told, only a little off-balance after having her legs crossed.

Regina steadied the other woman; her hands against Nora’s waist.

They were close. So close that Nora could see the hazel that limned the brown of Regina’s eyes. She could smell the perfume the other woman wore; something airy and sweet.

Regina’s fingers brushed against Nora’s shoulder. “What happened?” she asked.

“Got ambushed on the road.”

“By whom?” Regina hissed. As if she wanted a list of names. And directions to where she could find the assailants.

“Don’t worry about it. I took care of them.”

One of Regina’s hands had migrated beneath the fabric of the sling. Rested against the armor that was covering Nora’s shoulder. The other hand stayed at Nora’s hip.

They were nearly hugging. Nora wondered if Regina realized that.

“I’m okay,” Nora assured. Because Regina’s face was tight with worry and her hand had clenched against Nora’s waist.

“It doesn’t hurt?”

“It does if you press down like that,” Nora said, wincing.

And Regina dropped her hand immediately. “Sorry.” Taking a step back and swearing beneath her breath.

“No, it’s okay. Here.” And Nora reached for Regina’s hand. Put it back on her shoulder. “Just softly,” she said. “Soft.”

Regina resumed her ministrations. Making tiny circles with her thumb. From Nora’s shoulder to her elbow. Until the whole of Nora’s body was warm and tingling.  

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” Regina said. And they were standing so close that it was whisper, tickling Nora’s ear. “This mission you’re undertaking for me…I don’t want it to endanger you.”

“It won’t,” Nora promised. Moving an inch forward. Her arm coming up—the uninjured one—snaking around Regina’s waist.

Regina exhaled.

_This_ was an embrace.

And normal, right? This was normal. To hug someone you worked for? To chat about injuries while the front of your bodies touched? Yep. Perfectly normal.

Both Regina’s hands now resting against the small of Nora’s back. And when they brushed across Nora’s stomach, exploring, they snagged on a piece of cotton that was poking out of Nora’s pocket.

Regina pulled back from the embrace. Eyed the strip of fabric that had caught on her fingers. She tugged; removing the item from Nora’s pocket.

Garters. Fire-engine red garters.

Regina raised one perfectly manicured eyebrow. Narrowed her eyes at Nora. “I think this clashes with your outfit,” she said scornfully.

Nora blushed. Tried to grab for the fabric and missed. Regina had retreated. Returned to her desk.

“It’s not mine,” Nora said sheepishly. “I bought that for someone else.”

Regina actually bared her teeth. “Let me guess…Mary Margaret.”

“Of course not. They’re for Ruby.”

And Regina turned a shade of red that perfectly matched the lacey garters. “I think you’ve forgotten your reason for being in the vault,” Regina snapped.

“I haven’t--”

“You’re here on official vault business, and I find you smuggling in contraband?”

“It’s not contraband, it’s lingerie--”

“It’s outlawed!” Regina roared. She was seething and her hand clenched and unclenched around the item in question; permanently wrinkling it. “That you would have the audacity to come into my vault and have assignations under my watch--!”

Nora groaned. “Oh my God, Regina. This isn’t some trashy romance novel. I’m not some lech come ‘round to sully the virtue of your residents.”

“This garment says otherwise.”

Nora heaved a sigh; staring balefully at the scrap of fabric that had prematurely ended the best hug of her life.

“Do you know how many boxes of macaroni and cheese I had to trade to get those garters?” she asked. Taking a step towards Regina. Then another. “Forty-seven. My favorite food by the way. Forty-seven boxes of gourmet macaroni and cheese gone from my pantry.”  

Regina watched her move closer; her frown still firmly in place but shrinking against the playfulness of Nora’s tone; her light eyes.

“Nothing gourmet comes in a box, dear,” Regina said. Shifting until she was leaning against her desk.

Nora stopped within an inch of her; a tiny smile on her face. Her eyes darting between Regina’s eyes, her curving mouth.

Nora reached out; snagged the garters from Regina’s hand. She shook her head at the wrinkled fabric; bemused.

“You’ve ruined them,” Nora concluded.

“ _Good_. If Ms. Lucas wants lingerie, tell her to find them herself. You work for me not her.”

There was a double entendre there, Nora was sure of it. And she moved a step closer until they mirrored their earlier position. Touching; close; flush.

“No more smuggling things inside my vault,” Regina said.

Her tone had lightened considerably but there was a warning there.

“Understood,” Nora said. Tossing the garters into a nearby trash bin before fixing her eyes on Regina. Waiting. Hoping.

But the moment had been lost.

“I have to get back to work,” Regina said. Even though she made no effort to move from her close proximity to Nora.

“Right,” Nora said. Stepping back. Away. “I’ll just carry on with the mission. Do spy things…”

And she shuffled towards the door.

“I can cook you know?” Regina said, before Nora could leave the office.

Nora turned. “Huh?”

“Not as well as Granny, obviously, but there are certain dishes I prepare well.” Nora looked confused so Regina elaborated. “I’ll cook for you. Macaroni and cheese. Maybe it’ll make up for the forty-seven boxes you’re out of.”

Nora was gob smacked by the offer.. Had to swallow a few times before she could find her voice.  “I’d like that,” she finally said.

“Good. Then it’s a date.”  

. . .

“Who beat you up?” Ruby asked when she saw Nora shuffling down the hallway. Ruby was carrying a colossal vase of flowers and the vaulter took a moment to ogle Nora and her obvious infirmity.

“I won actually,” Nora rebutted, bending forward to smell the blossoms.

They were plastic. Of course. And the fictile petals poked her nose.

Ruby took note of the sling; the myriad bruises covering Nora’s face. “You Outsiders sure have an odd definition of winning,” she said pityingly. And she removed a plastic daffodil from the vase. Tucked it into Nora’s sling. “Next time… _duck_ ,” she said. And she patted Nora on the head as if she were a bullied child.

“Where are you headed with the flowers?” Nora asked. Rearranging the gifted daffodil so that it didn’t jab her side.

“Going to visit Belle in the infirmary. She hasn’t been doing too well since her last episode. I’m hoping these flowers will cheer her up.”

Nora perked at the comment. Finally a way for her to do some proper investigating.

“Mind if I tag along?” she asked Ruby. “I was there when Belle had her…incident. I’d like to see how she’s doing.”

“Sure. The more the merrier. Just be careful what you say to her. The slightest things have been setting her off lately. I’m worried that she might have a complete meltdown one day and never come back to herself.”

They began walking down the corridor. The plastic flowers rustling in their container; perfectly sized and immortal.

“The two of you are close?” Nora asked.

“She’s my best friend,” Ruby answered. “Her and Mary Margaret. We sort of have a Three Musketeers thing going on. I’m the hot one. Belle’s the smart one. M&M’s the huggy one.”

Nora chuckled. “The three of you must have had some great times together, growing up in the vault.”

“Yeah. I mean, the vault’s a pretty boring place to live. We never get any new albums. The clothing is shit. And it turns out that ghastly-looking boys grow into ghastly-looking men, so dating is altogether unsatisfying…”

Nora hoped the woman wouldn’t inquire about the garters.

“But all that is manageable when you have good friends.” A frown overtook on her face. “I just hope Belle snaps out of it.”

“So you all grew up together?” Nora asked.

“Yeah. I just said that, remember?”

“And you lived here, your entire life, in the vault?”

Ruby stopped walking. Fixed Nora with a concerned look. “When you lost that fight, did you get hit on the head?” Nora rolled her eyes. “No one’s ever been outside the vault, Nora. No one’s ever come in. Before you.”

Nora’s brow furrowed in confusion. Belle claimed to be from the outside, but Ruby was saying that she’d known the woman her entire life.

None of this was adding up.  

Ruby took Nora’s look of confusion for concussion, and she put an arm around Nora’s waist, hurried the wastelander down the hall.

“Good thing you’re coming with me to the infirmary. I think the doctor needs to give you a head exam. This kickass armor doesn’t come with a helmet?”

. . .

Belle was catatonic. Unmoving and unresponsive in the hospital bed. Her eyelids fluttering as her fingers tapped out some nonsensical rhythm against her right thigh.

She couldn’t hear Ruby talking to her—couldn’t hear at all it seemed—and her lack of consciousness was making Ruby tremble uncontrollably at Nora’s side.

“This can’t happen to Belle,” Ruby gritted. The tears she couldn’t control leaving streaks of makeup on her cheeks. “She was the brightest of us all. Always had top marks, was so nice to everyone. How could she just get sick like this? All of a sudden, without warning? She’s never even had a cold!”

“There’s no rhyme or reason to illness, Ruby. These things just happen.”

Dr. Whale.

He’d been visiting with another patient when Nora and Ruby had wandered into the clinic; and now he sauntered over. The white of his lab coat bright against the drab gray walls, and a jaunty smile on his face that seemed out of a place in such a solemn setting; when a young woman lay unmoving.

“Dr. Viktor Whale,” he told Nora, extending a hand. “Haven’t had the pleasure.”

He was wearing surgical gloves and Nora nodded at her injured shoulder as an excuse not to touch him; not to make contact with his latexed hand.

“Want me to take a look at that?” He asked Nora, already reaching for her bandaged arm.

“No, thanks.” And she turned away from him. Focused her attention on Belle. So pale and still against the cotton sheets. ”So no improvement?”

“None, I’m afraid.” He glanced down at the clipboard in his hand “But the new dosage of medication I’m giving her should keep her from having any more public freakouts.”

Both Nora and Ruby glared at him and the doctor shrugged.

“So you’re just going to keep her doped up?” Ruby asked. Her eyes blazing. “You’re a doctor. Shouldn’t you be trying to find a cure?”

“There’s no cure for VDS, Rubes—”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Best thing we can do for Belle is keep her comfortable and out of the way.” He shrugged again. “I mean, it’s an issue of public safety at this point, amirite?” He pointed the clipboard at Ruby. “And _you_ , Ruby Red, don’t forget to take your daily vitamin while you’re here. You’ve missed two days in a row. How are you going to maintain all that spunk if you have an iron deficiency?”

And he walked away from them, whistling—actually whistling!—approaching a glass-paneled cabinet that was lined with prescription bottles.

Ruby glared after the doctor. “Never did like him,” Ruby mumbled to Nora. “He was a prat in high school. And he became even more insufferable after Cora got him this job as chief medical officer. He thinks he’s hot shit when he’s just shit.”

Ruby turned back to Belle. Took a seat in the guest chair by the bed and clasped her friend’s limp hand. The plastic flowers sat on the bedside table. Forgotten.

“How did Cora get Whale a job?” Nora asked. “She’s not the Overseer.”

“She’s the next best thing. The Overseer’s mother. Cora does what she wants around here and no one questions her. Not even Overseer Mills.”

“And why is that?”

“Have you seen her? The woman is hell on heels. Definitely not someone you want to cross.” Ruby lowered her voice to a whisper. “Rumor is, she’s the one got rid of the previous Overseer so that she could shoehorn her daughter into the position.”  

“Got rid of? As in murder?”

“Jesus! _No_. You Outsiders are a cynical lot, aren’t you? No, Cora didn’t _murder_ the guy. The Overseer was a lush, and she supplied him with a steady flow of alcohol. All the drinking eventually rotted his brain and he was forced to resign.” Ruby shrugged. Patted Belle’s hand; soothing. “But it was just a rumor.”

Nora bit into her bottom lip, contemplating. Her eyes moved from Belle’s ashen face to the plastic flowers. Then she turned to study Dr. Whale.

The doc was busying himself by taking inventory of the vault pharmacy. Twisting and turning bottles in his hand; still whistling.  

. . .

Mulan stopped Nora in the hall. The former security officer was wan; her hair pulled into a messy bun; her shoulders drooped.

“You don’t look so well,” Nora told her.

“I could say the same for you.” And she eyed curiously the yellow daffodil sticking out of Nora’s sling.

“Got my ass kicked,” Nora explained before Mulan could even ask. Nora took a step closer to Mulan; lowered her voice: “Are you still not eating?”

“A lit bit here and there. I’m trying to avoid everything not prepared by my own hands.”

Nora sighed. Mulan was sticking to this conspiracy theory then. “I have some food in my supply sack out front. You can have it. It’s a bit irradiated but--”

Mulan shook her head. “I’ll be fine. You make any progress with the investigation?”

“No. But I have a lead I’m following. Maybe it’ll turn something up. They haven’t started treating you for VDS, have they?”

“Once I stopped mentioning the outside, they left me alone. They won’t let me go back to work, but that’s fine. Gives me more time to plan.”

“Plan what?”

Mulan hesitated. “You any closer to believing what I told you?”

“I don’t know Mulan. I still can’t wrap my mind around it all. And it’s not like you provided me with much proof.”

“I told you about my memories. Being Outside. My house.”

“Yeah, you did tell me all that, and that’s not enough to convince me, sorry.”

Mulan sucked her teeth in annoyance. “Then I’m not telling you anything about what I have planned. You could be in league with the Overseer.”

“Would that be so bad? She’s a nice person Mulan. She could help you--”

“She’s the reason I’m stuck here in the first place!”

“Nothing I’ve seen from her suggests that she’s this… _wicked_ witch that you’re making her out to be.”

Mulan shook her head; gave Nora a pitying look. “You’re trying to see the good in her when there is no good.”

“If there’s a villain in this vault, Mulan—and that’s a big _if_ —it’s not the Overseer. Now Whale? Maybe. There’s something off about him. Maybe even Cora. But I need more time to piece it all together…”

Mulan sidestepped Nora; tired of talking to her. “I hope you’re right about the Overseer, Nora. For your own sake. Otherwise, you may end up trapped here just like the rest of us. You’ll certainly believe me then.”

And the look on Mulan’s face—the disappointment—was so profound that it reminded Nora of Piper; of Cait. Of the many arguments she’d had with her friends about her refusal to choose sides in the Commonwealth faction war; to choose between them.

It was Nora’s nature to pacify; to mediate; to people-please to the point of, ironically enough, displeasing everyone.

And that neutrality always cost her in the end. Cost her everything.


	13. Chapter 13

There were candles.

There were candles and a table cloth and an old phonograph playing soft music.

There was the Overseer dressed down in a simple jumpsuit.

There was food simmering and succulent and emitting smells so savorous that it dazed Nora; made her falter.

She paused in the entryway of the Overseer’s office and stared forward in stunned silence.

An actual date.

Regina cleared her throat, appearing embarrassed by Nora’s dumbfounded expression and her inability to move more than a foot into the candlelit room.

“Do you require an escort?” Regina asked, with some humor to her voice. But the Overseer’s fingers trembled when she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. She fixed Nora with a pointed stare.

 “No. _No_.” And Nora finally stepped into the office; let the glass door close behind her. “It smells good in here,” she commented uselessly. Still so close to the door’s threshold that she could feel the doorknob press into her back.

Her eyes moved to the tiny bistro table angled in the corner. To the delicate dishware and champagne flutes. The multitudinous flickering candles. “Um...”

And Regina lost patience.

“I knew I shouldn’t have--” she muttered. Anger and something else—something regretful—seeping into her voice.  The Overseer began to blow out the candles; one after another. Dimming the room; undoing.

“You wanted simple. Macaroni and cheese.  And I went and did all this _extra_.”

Another candle snuffed out before she turned to the phonograph. And whatever bluesy narration the singer intended was aborted mid-note.

Regina stared down at the stilled vinyl. “I apologize for my presumption and excess. We can take dinner in the dining hall instead.  I think Granny’s serving stew.”

And the uncharacteristic timidity spurred Nora. “ _No_ …”

Nora finally moved into the office proper. Made a slow walk to the other woman’s side and waited patiently until Regina met her gaze.

“This is beautiful. Really. I was just surprised is all.” She gestured at the table; the candles; the entire display. “Thank you for this. It’s a definite upgrade from the tinned meat I usually eat around the campfire.”

Regina smiled, the tension ebbing from her face. And Nora felt something loosen in her chest.

“Mind if I…?” And when Regina nodded, Nora restarted the phonograph. Filled the room, once again, with the soulful sound of music. “My grandmother used to play this record when I was a kid. Every Sunday without fail.” And when the record spun, landing on a chorus she remembered, Nora began to hum along.

Regina was relighting candles. Shadows of firelight dancing across her face; matching the sway of Nora’s body.

_“Oh, it’s been such a long, long time. Looks like I'd get you off my mind. But I can’t…”_

The image seemed to mesmerize Regina. The Overseer paused with candle in hand and stared.

_“Just the thought of you. Turns my whole world misty blue.”_

 “The food is ready,” Regina finally said. Because she needed a distraction from the rhythm of Nora’s body; the rasp of her voice.

Because--even in a sling; singing off-key; with a scar bisecting the full of her throat; Nora was the most breathtaking thing Regina had ever seen.

. . .

“You don’t need help with your silverware, do you?” Regina asked. After the song had ended and Nora had stopped dancing and they’d settled in across each other at the table.

Nora couldn’t stop staring at the food in front of her. At the mound of cheese and curlicued pasta.

She smacked her lips. “Regina, even if I had _two_ injured arms, I would still find a way to stuff all of this into my mouth.”

“That’s would entail eating from a trough, dear, and let’s hope it never comes to that.” 

Nora rolled her eyes and dug in. And it should have embarrassed her, to moan so loudly over, _essentially_ , cheese noodles, but that’s exactly what Nora did at first bite. And second.

And her very vocal appreciation must have pleased Regina because the Overseer beamed at the enthusiastic response. A hint of red appearing on her cheeks as she demurely sampled her own meal.

“Do they not teach table manners on the Outside?” Regina teased.

“Take it as a compliment,” Nora replied, licking her lips in an effort to claim every dollop, every drop. “These noodles have some bite to them,” she noted.

“I added red pepper flakes.”

Nora’s mouth being full didn’t stop her from raving: “You are a goddess.”

And Regina chortled. Demonstrating her own bad manners when the sudden hysterics made her knock over her glass of wine.

. . .

“Do I need to ask why you’re swaddling a plastic flower?”

They’d migrated to the visitor’s chairs; sat side by side drinking wine and listening to the low-pitched music.

Nora hummed around her wine glass. “Someone felt bad for me and gifted it.”

Regina nodded. “How sweet of them.”

And Nora thought the woman was being sarcastic because, hey, that was her default state, but Regina surprised her when she rose from her chair and crossed over to the liquor cabinet; removing an empty pitcher that she quickly bought back to her desk.

Regina plucked the dandelion from Nora’s sling and placed it inside the pitcher; moved the flower around, this way and that, until she found the perfect fit.

Nora couldn’t help studying her. The stern and elegant Overseer who would fuss so over a fake flower.

Regina sensed the perusal. “What?” she asked. Finally content with her improvised vase.

The Overseer reclaimed her glass of wine and fell back in her seat; sipped.

“You,” Nora answered vaguely. Her own wine forgotten as she stared; couldn’t stop staring. “"I want--”

And she could have stopped there because that statement was enough; was real and true.

“I want to know. I want to ask you things, but I’m not sure you want that.”

Regina exhaled; and the sound was so loud—so thick—that for a moment it supplanted the music; became a song all its own. Her eyes fluttered; closed. And then:

“Ask me.”

. . .

Daniel.

They talked about Daniel and Nate.

Lost love and regret. Losing. Because it was always an ongoing thing: grief. Active.

Regina showed her the picture she’d hidden in her desk drawer. Daniel smiling, frozen in time.

And Nora revealed the wedding band she carried around her neck; and the scrap of baby blanket she kept tucked beneath her chest plate.

 _I found it in the rubble of my old home,_ she told Regina. _It’s all I have left._

Commiseration.

And whenever there were lulls in the conversation—whenever the remembering got to be too much and each woman retreated into her own pain-flecked thoughts—the music filled in the gaps.

Songs of mourning and missing and _those who loved before will be bought back together._

I need you, I miss you, and _you will be bought back to me._

It had started as a date and had become a memorial.

And it was right, in its own way. It was on time and necessary and exactly what each woman needed.

And when Regina reached out her hand—hesitant but unflinching—Nora took it. And that was the beginning.

. . .

The sling got in the way. Got caught around Nora’s head when she tried to remove it. The impaired vision made Nora trip against the carpet of Regina’s bedroom and do a spectacular face-plant onto the queen-sized bed.

Regina laughed at her, loudly. And it would have killed the mood but Nora laughed too. Flipping over onto her back and wrestling the fabric away from her face before pitching it across the room.

“You’re a klutz,” Regina reprimanded. Picking the discarded sling up and folding it neatly across a chair. “I don’t know how you’ve managed to survive so long on the Outside.”

“A lot of luck,” Nora noted. Propping herself up against the headboard. “And a whole hell of a lot of cardio. If you can’t beat it, flee it, that’s what I always say.”

“You must have impressive calves.”

And Nora glanced down at her leather-clad legs, considering.

Regina rolled her eyes affectionately. “Remove your clothes, dear.”

Nora blushed. Fiddled with the metal fasteners that kept her armor together. “I might need some help,” she pointed out. Motioning with her injured shoulder.

And Regina sat beside her on the bed. Their thighs brushing; breath mingling.

“Is your shoulder going to be a hindrance?” Regina asked. Her fingers already on buttons; loosening; pulling down. “We can wait…”

And Nora reached up with her own hand. Found the zipper that held together Regina’s jumpsuit and tugged. Her mouth watering at the expanse of skin revealed to her.

“Regina, even if I had _two_ injured arms, I would still find a way to stuff all of this into my--”

Regina kissed her. “Enough talking.”

. . .

“You’re beautiful.”

Regina’s finger dipped into the hollow of Nora’s bellybutton; traveled up, leaving goosebumps in their wake. She pinched skin between thumb and forefinger. Released. Then she settled her hands on the puckered skin of Nora’s neck; the jagged scar.

“So beautiful,” she whispered.

Nora shook her head. Her eyes closed; content. But even without looking she knew the blemishes that marked her body; fresh and old; some deep.  The grisliest one that crossed her neck: curdled and wide and thick like a chain.

“I’m not,” Nora said. Taking Regina’s questing hand in hers. Kissing it; removing it. “But thank you.”

Regina bit into Nora’s hand—the barest pinprick of teeth—waiting until the woman opened her eyes. “You _are_ Nora. I knew it the first moment I saw you…drooling on my floor…”

And Nora laughed. Felt her heart jump; the insecurity subside.

Nora ran her free hand down Regina’s back. Her shoulder protested the movement but she ignored it. Explored supple skin. The sheenness and damp; velvety smoothness; below.

Regina’s breath hitched; her lip caught between teeth. “I thought you wanted to sleep.”

“After.”

They kissed. Tongues meeting; intense. And when Regina straddled her (and it wasn’t a surprise, really, that the woman enjoyed being on top), Nora could feel the wet of her; the slick slide that had never quite subsided no matter the hours that had passed; the many times they’d come together; held.

“Harder,” Regina demanded. When Nora took her time; thumbing sensitive flesh; teasing; not quite bearing down.

Nora pushed.

And when Regina came, Nora followed soon after.  Sympathetic release.

And this time when Regina called her beautiful, Nora believed her.

. . .

“There was dessert, you know?”

“Hmm?” The grogginess made Nora inarticulate and she tried her best to blink away the sex-induced haze.

“I’d prepared dessert for after the macaroni and cheese.”

“And you’re just now mentioning it?”

“I was distracted.”

And she pressed a kiss to Nora’s earlobe by way of apology.

Nora’s eyelids fluttered at the contact. “What did you make?”

“Apple turnovers with honey glaze.”

Nora’s eyelids fluttered again. “Dear heavenly pastry…”

Regina chuckled. “Don’t worry. It’ll keep. We can have it for breakfast.”

And Nora suddenly realized the lateness of the hour. “What time is it?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Late. Why?”

But Nora was already shifting on the bed. Scooting over to the edge and peering through the darkened room for her clothes. “I can’t stay here,” she said. Shooting an apologetic glance over her shoulder at Regina. “I can’t stay overnight in this vault.”

Regina sat up in bed. Her skin flushed and hair tousled; the sheet she held against her body doing little to cover her nakedness. She watched in annoyance as Nora snagged her leather armor from the floor and began to wriggle it on.

“You’re not serious?” she asked exasperatedly.

Nora could only get the armor up to mid-waist. The sex-aerobics from earlier had fatigued her injured arm. It wouldn’t cooperate. She huffed. Hopped up in down in an effort to get the constricting suit to fit.

Regina scowled at the display (the blatant _abandonment_ that was about to take place) but she moved from the bed to help Nora; slapped the woman’s hands away from the suit and adjusted the fabric against Nora’s skin.

Regina was breathing hard as if the minor movement had exerted her, and her lashes came down to cover her eyes.

Nora’s mouth twisted with remorse. “I’m sorry Regina. It’s just…vaults take something out of me. I spent 200 years trapped in one. I don’t think I can manage an entire night.”

Regina refastened Nora’s buttons; her fingers moving quick and methodically. “Nothing’s going to happen to you here, Nora. I wouldn’t let it.”

And the way she said it, the way she shielded her eyes, gave Nora pause.

“You wouldn’t _let_ it?” she asked. “What does that mean?”  

But Regina didn’t answer. She focused on buttons; on smoothing out wrinkles in Nora’s suit. A steadfast avoidance.

Nora had time to rethink her own words.

_I spent 200 years trapped in a vault. A fucking captive. Mulan feels similarly; that she’s being held in this vault against her will. What if she’s telling the truth?_

But Mulan couldn’t be. She couldn’t. Because that would mean—

Nora put a hand against Regina’s. Both of their hands now pressed against her chest plate; against the spot where she kept the remnant of Sean’s baby blanket; where her wedding ring hung by chain against her heart.

“Regina, if I ask you, will you tell me? Will you tell me the truth?”

Regina’s gaze lifted then; her eyes that hypnotic brown that Nora had come to crave.

“Is there something going on in Vault 108?” Nora asked hesitantly. “Something bad? Something dangerous?”

A muscle ticked in Regina’s jaw and she stepped away from Nora; wrenching her hand free from Nora’s clasp.

“This again…” Regina muttered. Pacing around the room until she found her own discarded clothing. She pulled on the jumpsuit; zipping it up as it if were a barrier. Until the mantle of Overseer had been restored.

“I understand that you had an unpleasant experience in your own vault Nora, but to _continue_ to insinuate that I am some depraved miscreant who is committing unspeakable horrors against the residents of this vault--”

“I’m not accusing you of that.”

“You are. You have since the very beginning!”

And Regina pointed a finger at her; the same finger that had caressed Nora’s neck not even an hour earlier. “I will not be interrogated in my own vault. I will not be insulted!” Nora took a step towards her. “Don’t!”

Nora stopped in her tracks. Put a hand up, appeasing. Her other arm lying limp against her side. “Just tell me Regina. Whatever’s going on…whatever you’ve done…we can work past it.”

“Whatever I’ve done?!” Regina snarled. “This isn’t the Outside, Nora. You don’t get to traipse in here with your shiny armor and your do-gooder notions and try to play hero in my vault! You certainly don’t get to tell me what to do _or_ decide if I am good or evil!”

“No one’s calling you evil, Regina.”

“ _Please_. You think I don’t know what the vaulters say about me?  The allegations and whispers that take place behind my back? They call me Ice Queen.  She-Bitch. The fucking Evil Queen!” And there was a vulnerability that crossed her face even as she raged. “Being Overseer is a thankless, friendless job and no one…Not _one_ single person…appreciates all that I do. Not even you.”

And Nora thought of the gourmet meal; the candlelight; the soft words breathed into her skin. _You’re beautiful._

“Regina--”

But Regina shook her head; not willing to hear anymore; not caring. The Overseer did her best to smooth down her tangled hair; regulate her breathing; steel her features. When she was satisfied with the transformation, she picked up Nora’s sling from where she’d folded it.

“Put this on and leave. Don’t bother returning to the vault. I no longer require your services.”

Nora felt her heart sink.

Down, down, everything plummeting. Until all that was left was yawning emptiness; regret.

“Regina…”

But the Overseer shook her head. Her eyes radiating so much heat that it scorched Nora to her core.

Nora took the sling. Her fingers brushing against Regina’s; then gone.  

Nora didn’t even bother putting the brace back on. Just trudged from the room her arm dangling at her side. Sometimes hurt things needed to hurt.

. . .

Officer Charming was at the vault door and he returned Nora her weapons. The friendly guard tried to catch Nora’s eyes, smile at her, but the despondent woman busied herself reattaching her shotgun; the snub-nosed .44; the combat knife. The everyday accessories of a Commonwealth citizen.

“The Overseer radioed down,” Charming said. Cheerful and chirpy as ever. Even at three in the morning. “Said this is your last foray into our vault.”

Nora nodded. Began mentally charting a path back to Diamond City. Or perhaps she would go see Donny Kowalski. Maybe Cait had been by again. Would be at the docks. Maybe.

 _I can’t keep losing_ —Nora lamented. But couldn’t finish the thought because she was tired of regretting. Of anguishing. _Let it be._

Officer Charming was still talking. “Need help carrying your gear out?” he asked her. Taking note of the way her left arm didn’t move; the supply sack she’d have to carry; the square of plastic in her right hand.

Nora shook her head.

“What’s that?” he asked. Motioning at the Tupperware she was stuffing inside her satchel.  

“A parting gift from the Overseer,” Nora replied woodenly. “Apple turnover.”

And somehow she managed to carry it all—the supplies and hurt feelings—out of Vault 108.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Ask me" -- A nod to the movie 'Carol'.


	14. Chapter 14

Cait wasn’t at the docks with Donny. Neither was Danse. The little boy was on his own. Sitting in a folding chair near the water’s edge; throwing pebbles into the sea.

Nora was nearly at his side before the boy heard her. He twisted around in his seat; casting a face-splitting smile upon her.

“You’re back,” he trilled. Abandoning the pebbles so that he could hasten to Nora’s side. He put an arm around her waist; tried his best to guide her to his chair.

“I’m fine Donny, I’m fine,” she told him. Smiling at his chivalry.

But she took the seat—exhausted after days of walking—and she motioned him to sit beside her on the dock floor. The eleven-year old folded his thin legs beneath him; resting his face in the palm of his hands.

“How’s your shoulder?” he asked Nora.

“Much better.”

“Your arm looks funny.”

It was limp and kind of floppy-looking as if it no longer contained bone.

 “I’ll be fine,” Nora assured him.

The truth was, she couldn’t feel it anymore. The entire arm. But of all the pain she was experiencing currently, it was the least aggravating, so she could ignore it for now.

“Danse moved on?” she asked Donny.

And the little boy bit at his fingernails, wrinkling his nose at the dirt taste. “Yeah. Said he had to check on his power armor before someone stole it. You think he’ll ever let me wear it?”

Nora laughed; was surprised that she could still produce such sound. “Kid, you have some growing to do before you can handle power armor, okay?”

Donny nodded good-naturedly. Used a hand to scoop up his pebbles. Began pelting them into the water again.

“Donny…” And it was a whisper. Because Nora had to get this right. She couldn’t spook the kid or boss him. Had to give him an option. “Have you given any thought to what we talked about last time I was here?”

A pebble soared from Donny’s hand. Small and tan and insignificant. The tiny stone disappeared beneath the waves.

“About living with you?”

“Yeah. I have a pretty nice set-up in Diamond City. My apartment’s big so you’ll have your own room. And there’s a school in the city; other kids your age. They even have a local baseball team. We can attend games on Fridays.” She tried to paint a picture for the kid. As if it were a timeshare she was selling him instead of a new home. “I really think you would like it there, Donny. You’d have friends and plenty of food. You’d be safe…”

Donny looked at her. His gray eyes almost translucent in the fading late; nearly vanished beneath the dirt of his face; the persistent grime that clung to all of the people who lived in the wastes.  

“What if my mom comes back?” he asked. A wrinkle appearing on his forehead. Childhood worry.

And how could Nora answer that? What if his mom _did_ come back? What if she didn’t? What if his mother—absent nearly five years now—was already dead or taken or permanently missing?

The Commonwealth was a mouth; was teeth piercing, and it _consumed_. Every living thing was a target. Even little boys with ice for eyes and ill-fated mothers who wandered too far.

“We’ll leave a note for her Donny.”

And even as she said it, Nora knew it wouldn’t be enough.

“No,” the little boy said. Not unkindly. “I can’t leave her.”  
And he was the most faithful person Nora had ever seen.

“I have something for you,” she told him. When some time had passed. When she’d nearly dozed off to the sound of stones sailing and falling.

“More apples?” Donny asked; expectant.

“Almost.” And she removed the Tupperware from her supply sack. Peeled the top off and revealed the crumbly pastry. “An apple turnover.”

Donny’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, and he reached for the desert. Fingers scrabbling; sinking into flaky crust.

He bit into the turnover and sighed happily. “You want some?” he asked around a bite. Sugar granules already sticking to his lips.

And it made Nora feel something—nostalgia maybe. Of holidays past with tables weighed down by cakes and pies. Nate stealing a bite of her food. Regina laughing over a glass of wine.  

Nora tried to push it down. _It will never be that way again. We will never…_

She found a smile for Donny.  “You have it,” Nora told him. “I bought it for you.”

And the little boy ate until he was content; his fingers resting against Nora’s forearm; sticky with sugar; holding on.

. . .

She had difficulty getting her front door opened. Her supply sack was weighing down her good arm; the left one still wouldn’t move; and she was dehydrated and tired. She wondered if she could nap against the front door. Just a few minutes, standing, until she found the energy to put her key in the lock.

“You’re not wearing your sling.”

Dr. Sun stepped out of his office; peered across the walkway at Nora and frowned.

“I lost it,” she told him. Giving up on the nap and trying (and failing) to raise her arm past her waist.

Dr. Sun muttered beneath his breath and jogged over to help her. He took the key from her hand (and the supply sack) and let her into the house.

“How does one lose a sling?” he asked her. As soon as they’d shuffled inside and he’d placed her items on a nearby table.

“A large gust of wind,” Nora lied.

And she sank down onto her living room couch and sighed happily; not even caring when dust bunnies rose into the air and attacked her nostrils.

She sneezed.

“I have a tonic for that cold,” Dr. Sun announced.

“I don’t have a cold.” And she nestled into the couch cushions, near asleep.

Dr. Sun sniffed, not believing her. “I need to check on that arm, Nora. Put you in a new sling.”

“Later.”

The doctor grumbled something about stubborn patients and ungratefulness then headed for the door.

“Thanks for the help Doc,” Nora called and then she was asleep.

When she woke it was late and nighttime sounds filtered into her apartment. The hum of patrons from the bar next door, laughing and shooting pool. Feeding the jukebox with faded pre-war coins; the click-clack of couples dancing close.  

Nora pulled the string on an overhead bulb; sent yellow light streaming across her paneled floor.

Food, she needed food. And her pantry was empty. She turned the light back off. Stumbled out into the inky dark.

The robot Takahashi sold spicy noodles; overpriced and watery but the wait was never long. Nora sat on one of the barstools at his outdoor bar and tried to work a set of chopsticks with one hand.

“You don’t have a fork, Takahashi?” she asked the robot.

“Nanni shimashoka?" he responded.

“What about red pepper flakes?”

“Nanni shimashoka?"

Nora drank the noodles. Burning her tongue and the soft skin of her mouth. She managed not to spill most of it.

She was heading back to her apartment when Piper’s sister, Nat, ran up to her.

“Heard you were back Nor’. Piper wants to see you ASAP.”

Nora nodded and began walking in the direction of Piper’s office; Nat at her side.  

“I’ll pick Dogmeat up some time tomorrow. He hasn’t been giving you any trouble, has he?”  

“No, he’s a good pup. And the money I’m making from dog-sitting him is going to help me buy my very own Polaroid camera. Piper said she’ll let me start contributing photos to her weeklies.”

“That’s a great idea Nat. Should boost sales and everything.”

Nat smiled; pleased by the compliment. She gave Nora a sidelong glance. Seemed to hesitate before asking: “You and Piper are going to be friends again, right?”

“Piper and I are still friends Nat.”

“But you don’t come around anymore, and Piper hardly ever leaves the office unless it’s for an assignment. We used to have fun, the three us. I even liked it when Cait was around.”

Nora did too, and she nodded at the teen’s words; feeling an unexpected pang of loss and longing.

But she managed a smile for Nat; used her good hand to pat the girl on the shoulder. “We’ll sort it out Nat. Don’t worry.”

And she quickened her pace. Led the teenager inside _Publick Occurrences_.

. .

Even at the late hour, Piper was up, clacking away at her computer.

“You wanted to see me Pipes?”

Piper frowned when she saw Nora. “What happened to your arm?”

“Got bushwhacked. Now, what did you want to see me about? Please tell me you don’t need me to investigate a mirelurk nest or something.”

“No. But that’s a great idea for a future story. Let’s put a pin in that conversation.” 

“Piper--”

“ _Right_.” The newspaper reporter rose from her desk and approached Nora; a self-satisfied smile on her face. “I was able to dig up those missing person reports you wanted.”

“That’s great! Thanks Pipes.”

Piper accepted the one-armed hug that Nora gave her; then pointed at a large box in front of her supply closet. “Have at it.”

Nora walked over to the box and knelt down to investigate its contents. “There are quite a few folders here, but I should be able to sift through these tonight.”

 “Uh…Nora? I was pointing at the closet.”

“What?!” Nora used her foot to nudge the box out of the way. She opened the supply closet door.

“Dear God…”

The closet was stuffed from floor to ceiling with cardboard boxes. More boxes than Nora had ever seen. More than she could count.

“ _All_ of these are missing person reports?” Nora asked incredulously.

“Yep. In a world populated by monsters and machine guns, people tend to go missing. Who knew?”

“Shit.”

And Nora considered kicking the boxes; maybe punching them; or just a pinch? But she figured she wouldn’t survive an avalanche of papers and folders, so she just reached for the box closest to her, opened it, and began to read.

. . .

“So who exactly are we looking for?” Piper asked.

And she’d surprised Nora when she’d offered to help. Nat had joined in and the three of them sat on of the office floor, dozens of open boxes on all sides of them, combing through papers. So many snapshots of missing people that it was like looking through the world’s most depressing photo album.

“A young woman. Chinese. Her name is Mulan. I mean… _if_ that’s her real name. I suppose that could be fake too.”

Piper shot her a bewildered look. “Blue, what type of trouble have you gotten yourself into _this_ time?”

“It could be a whole lot of nothing. It could be the greatest cover-up of all time. I’m still not sure.”

And for the first time since Nora had known her, Piper didn’t look enthused at the prospect of a juicy story. Her eyes flickered from Nora’s injured arm to her pinched face. 

“I’m worried about you, Blue.” she told Nora.

And the news reporter sounded so sincere in her concern that Nora couldn’t help but burst into tears.

. . .

“Mind control?!” Piper asked; her eyes wide with horror. “They’ve just been snatching people out of the Commonwealth and… _reprogramming_ them?”

“I don’t even know if any of it’s true.”

And Nora sniffled; trying to contain all of her jumbled emotions. And for a second she wished she did have her sling because the brace would have made a hell of a Kleenex.

“You can’t go back to that vault,” Piper told Nora. Passing her a ratty towel and glaring until Nora used it on her soiled face. “It sounds dangerous Nora.”

“Totes dangerous,” Nat agreed; still riffling through the boxes of missing person reports. Creating of stack of those women she thought could be Mulan.

“Even if I wanted to go back, they wouldn’t let me in. The Overseer kicked me out and told me not to return.”

“So why are we even looking through those missing person reports? Sounds like the case is closed,” Piper noted.

“It isn’t. I have to get to the bottom of this thing. If Mulan is right and she’s trapped there—and the others—I have to find a way to get them out. I can’t them leave them like that.”

Piper released a heavy sigh. “You’re projecting, Blue.”

And it took Nora a moment to respond to Piper. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the stack of notices she’d been rifling through. So many people went missing in the Commonwealth. Children too. Lost or disappeared. She turned the photographs over after each inspection. Couldn’t bear to look at them any longer.

“What do you mean ‘I’m projecting’?” she finally asked.

 “You feel guilty about Nate. That you had to leave him behind in Vault 111. And now you think that every vaulter you encounter is in distress.”

“That’s not true.”

“If I told you right now that there was a vault the next town over, you’d head there straightaway, thinking there might be someone there who needed your help.”

“No.”

“Six vaults, Blue. This is the _sixth_ you’ve found. It’s an obsession with you.”

Nora’s right hand clenched on her lap. “You don’t know what they did to us. What I lost in 111.”

“I know it hurts, Nora...” And she never called Nora by her first name. “But, eventually, you have to let go.  You have to move on…”

“I can’t move on. It’s too much like leaving and I can’t leave him again.”

The look on Piper’s face was sympathetic. “You’re going to all these vaults Nora, expecting Nate to be there, but he won’t. He won’t ever be.”

It sounded cruel, said like that. Laid bare and honest at Nora’s feet. But it was friendship. Piper trying; attempting reconciliation. The news reporter leaned forward and caught Nora in a hug. “You couldn’t stay there, Nora; with him. And that’s okay.”

And when Nora’s left hand flopped uselessly at her side, unable to fully return the embrace, it disturbed a stack of papers. The one’s Nat had been painstakingly stacking.

Nora gasped over Piper’s shoulder. “I know her,” she exclaimed. Pulling back from the hug. Using her good hand to drag the missing person report to her lap.

“Is that Mulan?” Piper asked. Peering down at the faded picture.

“No.” And Nora stared at the notice, unblinking. “It’s Belle.”

 

. . .

The missing person report said that Belle had been missing for five years. Five. She was originally from Suffolk County; a stone’s throw from Vault 111, and her father had offered a reward for his daughter’s safe return.

Five fucking years.

. . .

“I’m going back,” Nora quickly decided. Stuffing the notice into her pocket. Scrambling to her feet. She needed supplies; ammunition; another sling to secure her arm.

“You can’t,” Piper cried. Grabbing for her friend; turning her around. “Clearly these people are dangerous and more than a little psychotic. They could kill you or steal your memories like they did with this Belle woman.”

“I don’t have any other choice Piper. Can you imagine how many of the 108 vaulters may really be from the Outside?” She gestured at the hundreds of missing person reports strewn around the room. “Any number of those people. They have families and friends who are still looking for them. I have to go back. I have to stop--”

And she felt lightheaded all of a sudden. Had to lean against the wall and catch her breath. Because the person she would have to confront, to thwart was Regina.

_She used me. She fucking lied. Pretended to feel…_

All of this madness started with Regina.

“Mulan was telling the truth,” she murmured. “The whole fucking time.”

And she had to rush out of the office, into the street; find a dark corner to hunch over; because she was going to be sick.

It spilled out of her: the sick, the choking sobs, the memories of kisses and flushed skin.

All lies.

She could feel a hand on her back; stroking up and down; relaxing her. “I’ll come with you,” Piper told her.

“You can’t.” When she could breathe again. When her throat wasn’t so clogged with bile and tears. “It’s too risky. You have Nat to think about.”

“I’m coming with you whether you like it or not, Blue. You pulled me into this mess; now you’re stuck with me.”

And when Nora finally nodded—too exhausted and miserable to protest any further—Piper put on her best news reporter face and stroked her chin, deep in thought: “We need a plan.”

. . .

Whatever plan they had—and it was an ill-formed and precarious plan considering they came up with it during the long walk from Diamond City to Vault 108—it was thrown out of the window the moment the two women came into view of the vault.

Nora stopped in her tracks and stared: flabbergasted.

Piper pulled off the goggles she’d been wearing and heaved a sigh.

“Oh, shit,” she exclaimed. Violating her own rule against swearing.

The door to Vault 108 was wide open. Swinging. The passageway gaping like a giant maw.

“Oh, shit,” Nora agreed.

And she steadied the pistol in her hand; gestured for Piper to do the same.

The two women moved forward slowly; guns drawn. And it wasn’t long before they were blanketed in the darkness of Vault 108.

 


	15. Chapter 15

There had been a fight, Nora could tell. The vault entryway was in disarray. Furniture overturned and electronics broken and strewn about the room. There was a smattering of blood against the wall. Not a lot but enough to suggest violence.

Nora turned worried eyes on Piper. “Could be raiders,” she conjectured.

“Or super mutants.”

“Fuck.”

And Nora suddenly wished that her left arm was working properly. She wouldn’t be able to heft her shotgun with one hand. Wouldn’t even be able remove the pin from a grenade.

She steadied her pistol.  “Follow me.”

They crept down the quiet passageway. Too quiet—no signs of life. And there was more chaos to greet them. Trash bins knocked on their sides and leaking contents; ragged holes punched into once pristine walls. The calm and sanctity of Vault 108 had clearly been violated.

Nora stepped over a piled of broken chairs (some kind of blockade?) and inched towards the vault atrium.

And that’s when she heard gunfire.

. . .

Mulan had a rifle trained on the Overseer.

The former security officer was bleeding from her face as she’d had to fight through a crowd. And considering there had been blood on the walls in the vault anteroom, perhaps she had.

There was a rustle of sound as vault residents tried to find hiding spots beneath tables and chairs. Some of the vaulters panicked and simply curled into balls on the floor; tried to make themselves inconspicuous in the midst of the bedlam.  

_Mulan, don’t you fucking move!_

Security officers screaming, pointing their own heavy guns.

A room teeming with violence.

The Overseer had her arms raised, but the vault leader seemed calm even at gunpoint.

“Mulan--” Regina started.

Mulan interrupted her. “Don’t speak! Everything you say is a lie. All lies.”

“Lay down your weapon before my officers are forced to intervene.”

And Mulan seemed to realize for the first time that she was surrounded by former colleagues. Mulan hesitated; turned pained eyes on Charming; Tiana; Graham.

“You would shoot me?” she asked them breathlessly.

“Just put the gun down, yeah?” Graham answered; his own rifle shaking in his hand. “And we can sit down real friendly-like and sort this mess out.”

 “We _can’t_ sort it out. She stole from me! Years of my life. I don’t even know how many…”

And Mulan’s grip around the rifle tightened.

“I’m warning you Mulan,” Graham sputtered. “The next shot won’t be a warning.” And he edged closer, looking for an opening; awaiting a sign from the Overseer.

Officer Charming lowered his weapon before taking a tentative step toward his friend. “Mulan, please,” he whispered. “Give me the gun.”  

“Step back David! I don’t want to hurt you.” And Mulan fixed Charming with a pained stare before returning her attention to the Overseer. “I want out of this vault right now,” she demanded. “And I’m taking Belle with me.”

“I’m afraid I can’t allow that Mulan,” Regina responded calmly.

“You don’t have a choice!” And the rifle barrel drifted towards the Overseer’s face; as if Mulan thought the gun would be more intimidating the closer it was; like a blade. “I’ve already pried open the vault door. I just need Belle. I need everyone to _know_ what you did.”

“Mulan, it’s clear that you’re unwell. I won’t hold this incident against you if you drop the weapon right now and surrender to my officers.”

And the Overseer’s unflappability seemed to further enrage Mulan.

“You tell them what you did,” she gritted. Nodding her head at the huddled forms of her neighbors; the terrified bystanders. “You tell them or, so help me, I will end this thing once and for all.”

And her finger twitched against the trigger. Hesitating but wanting.

“Mulan, don’t!” Nora shouted from the doorway. But the wastelander was separated from the melee by the wall of officers and bystanders. Nora tried unsuccessfully to push her way through the crowd. “For fucks sake! _Move_!”

Mulan wavered with indecision; her trigger finger a hairsbreadth away.

Graham growled. “Damn you Mulan! Don’t make me kill you.”

His own face tight with hesitancy.

It would be a bloodbath. So many weapons in an enclosed space. So many pliable bodies.  

Nora pushed through the throng of bodies. Almost there.

The Overseer kept her eyes trained on Mulan’s. Seemed to reach some kind of decision. “Do it,” Regina instructed.

And Nora startled at the timbre of the woman’s voice. The resignation.

“Don’t, Mulan!” Nora shouted again. Finally reaching the circle of combatants.  

And before Mulan could make her choice—before Nora could wrench the gun away from the troubled woman—Graham moved with lightning speed; crashing the butt of his rifle into the back of Mulan’s head.

Mulan crumbled to the ground; falling in what seemed like slow-motion; her arms and legs spasming in uncoordinated movement as if the woman had lost all control of herself. Mulan hit the ground hard. Immediately went still.  

“Mulan!” Nora shouted, coming to a kneel at the felled woman’s side. The fabric of Nora’s leathers was immediately soaked with blood. Thick and spreading, a cruel violet.

Graham stared down at her Mulan: her still face and tangled limbs. “I didn’t want to,” he stammered; his face stricken and white. “But I’m sworn to protect the Overseer.”

And he reached for Mulan, attempting to touch the woman’s bloodied face.

Nora shoved the guard away. “Get the doctor,” she demanded.

Graham blinked once more; his eyes damp and widening. Then he ran.

. . .

“You need to leave the vault at once.”

The Overseer had been barking orders. Commanding the gawking vaulters to disperse; instructing the guards to secure the vault door.

The Overseer wanted order and she wanted it _now_.

Already the maintenance crew was rearranging furniture; tidying; working quickly and quietly with only the occasional glance at the blood-soaked woman on the floor and the two Outsiders who were doing their best to tend her.

The Overseer said it again, this time while looming over Nora. “You need to leave the vault, Nora. _Immediately_. And take your little friend with you.”

Piper glared up at Regina but couldn’t maintain the heat of the woman’s stare. Piper refocused her attention on Mulan; doing her best to support the woman’s flopping head.

“How long is this doctor going to take?” Piper asked Nora. “She’s losing a lot of blood.”

Nora had removed her sling; was wrapping the fabric in gentle lines across Mulan’s head. Already the blood was seeping through; the sling sodden.

“Give her a stimpack,” Nora told Piper. “And Med-X if you have it.”

Piper reached into her satchel for the medication. Injected one after another into the woman’s limp arm.

“Did you hear me, Nora?” And the Overseer practically shouted it this time. “I want you out of this vault at once! I told you not to come back here.”

“You told me a lot of things, Regina.” And Nora took her attention off Mulan just long enough to glare at the Overseer.  “Fucking liar.”

Regina flinched at the harshness of Nora’s voice. The expletive. The Overseer canted her head to the side and took a moment to regain composure. “I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“You kidnapped Mulan. Belle. God knows how many others.” Nora’s eyes watered without her permission. “Were you planning to trap me here too? Take my memories? Or were you going to feed me with food and sex until I agreed to assist in your abduction scheme?”  

Regina swallowed thickly.  “ _Nora_ , you’re not making any sense.”

“There’s no use covering it up, Regina. I already know the truth.”

And Nora wrenched the missing person flyer from her pocket; frisbeed it in Regina’s direction.

Regina just barely managed to catch scrap of paper. She stared down at the missing person flyer and gasped. “Where’d you get this?” she demanded.

Nora ignored her. Mulan’s pulse was weakening, and Nora could only scrabble uselessly at the woman’s clammy skin.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Nora murmured. Would another dose of Med-X help? Or would it overload Mulan’s already fragile system? “ _Shit_!”

“She’s fading, Blue,” Piper murmured.

Nora seethed. “If Mulan dies, Regina . . . I swear, if she so much as wakes up with a _headache_ \--” 

Nora glared daggers at Regina. Felt overcome by competing emotions: fierce loathing and lov— No. No! Nora blinked away the emotion. “Damn you Regina.”

The words so pain-flecked and brittle that Regina actually startled.

“I didn’t want this to happen,” the Overseer ground out. “You don’t understand—”

But whatever else she was going to say was interrupted by the appearance by Dr. Whale.

The jocular doctor sauntered into the atrium, unphased, as if he had all the time in the world.

“Where’s my patient?” Whale asked blithely. Smoothing down the muss of hair that crowned his head. The doctor looked as if he’d been stirred from a nap.

“Get over here!” Nora ordered. And she glared at the doc when he continued to move at an unhurried pace.

When he reached them, Whale stared down at Mulan’s contorted body, clucked his tongue sympathetically. “ _That’s_ going to leave a bruise,” he discerned.

Nora considered strangling him.

“ _Shoo_ ,” Whale scolded. Waving Nora and Piper away as if they were flies disturbing a picnic. He came to kneel at Mulan’s side while Nora stumbled to her feet; off-balance and awkward with her deadened arm.

Regina reached a hand out to steady Nora, but Nora twisted away, scowling.

“Don’t touch me.”

Regina sighed. “ _Nora_ —”

Regina took a step towards Nora just as her mother swanned into the room. Cora’s mouth twisted in displeasure as she took in the bloody scene, the disarray, Nora and Piper. 

“There is a trail of destruction a mile wide in the corridors,” Cora stated icily. “Debris and _odor_ …” And she glared at the Outsiders; her lips curled with distaste.

“It’s being taken care of Mother,” Regina said. Moving away from Nora and straightening her uniform as if even a stray wrinkle would cause offense. “The vault will back to optimal functioning in no time.”

“I warned you, didn’t I?” Cora said; striding to her daughter’s side. “That unprocessed visitors would cause mayhem?” And her eyes slid back to Nora. Cold and critical. “Once _again_ …it falls to me to restore order to the vault.”  

Regina frowned. “I have everything under control.”

“You consider _this_ control, Regina? Darling, you can’t be that obtuse. But don’t worry, Mother will fix things like she always does.”

And there was a devilish glint in Cora’s eyes that didn’t go unnoticed by Regina or Nora.

Regina lowered her voice to a whisper. “Can we speak privately?” she asked her mother.

“We don’t have time for _chats_ , Regina. At this very moment, the vault door is doing its best impression of a turnstile.”

“ _Please_ , Mother.”

Cora softened at the earnest tone. She fixed her daughter with a smile that was plasticized and, frankly, terrifying. “Of course, dear. There is _much_ we need to discuss.”  

“I’d like to have a word with you first,” Nora interjected. Ambling towards the huddled women; her combat suit a mess of blood; her left arm dangling uselessly at her side.

Cora scowled at the sight. “I was under the impression that you evicted the Outsider?” Cora asked Regina.

“I did,” Regina replied softly. Her eyes trained on Nora’s limp arm; Nora’s tortured face.

“So, she’s trespassing then?” Cora asked. “I’ll alert the guards.”

Nora gritted her teeth; pissed that the women were speaking about her as if she wasn’t there.

“Don’t bother calling for the guards,” Nora told the older woman. “It won’t end well for them. If anyone raises a weapon on me, I won’t hesitate like Mulan did.”

Cora’s lip curled. “Spoken like a true barbarian. I swear…all of you Outsiders are so _uncivilized_.”

“You say that as if you’d met other Outsiders,” Nora countered. “I thought I was the first Outsider you vaultees had ever seen.”

Nora couldn’t help smirking. Vault 108’s lies were unraveling finally.  

But Cora seemed unaffected by her slip. The woman simply chuckled. A husky sound that jangled like loose coins; disconcerting.

“Whale?” Cora called. And when the doctor turned from his treatment of Mulan: “Carry on to the infirmary, darling. That blood will stain the floor, and you know how much I despise messes.”

“Of course, Cora.”  Whale rose to his feet. “I’ll fetch a gurney.”

Cora smiled sweetly. “And make preparations for our visitors while you’re at it.” She gestured at Nora and Piper; both women as blood-spattered and haggard-looking as Mulan. “They look as though they require treatment as well.”  

Whale nodded and hastened away.

“You can stop with the false solicitude,” Nora said tiredly. Walking closer and nearly slipping on the slick of blood surrounding Mulan. “You don’t fool me. I know you’re involved in this whole…body-snatcher plot. Probably the mastermind, huh?” And Nora looked to Regina for confirmation, but the vault leader looked away. Reserved and timid in a way that only seemed to manifest around Cora.

Nora refocused her attention on Cora. “If you think for one second that I’m going to let you entrap me in this vault…that I’m going to let you hurt Mulan any further… you’re out of your fucking mind.”

Cora scowled at the profanity. But her eyes danced with mirth. And when Nora let her hand come to rest on her sidearm, Cora burst into laughter. Tickled by Nora’s attempt at intimidation.

“Sweetheart, I survived two marriages and a vault-wide plague, and you think a pistol is going to frighten me?”

She laughed again. Full-bodied and crackly. Then she cut her eyes at Nora (and Piper, for good measure) before turning on her heels; dismissing them both.

“Come Regina,” Cora demanded.

“Hey! I’m not finished talking to you.” Nora protested.

But Cora ignored her. Continued her egress from the room. “You have until the vault door is fixed…” Cora called over her shoulder. A warning.

And Nora could only stare as the woman disappeared down the hall.

Regina’s gaze shifted from Nora to her mother’s retreating form, back again.

“Leave now,” Regina urged. Then she followed Cora out of the room.

. . .

Dr. Whale had managed to clean most of the blood from Mulan’s head. He’d disinfected and bandaged the nasty wound, but a tinge of copper remained, curling along Mulan’s hairline. The contrast unnerved Nora. Such violent red against waxen skin. Nora shifted anxiously from one foot to another. It had been over an hour and Mulan hadn’t stirred once.

“All done,” Dr. Whale commented. Checking his handiwork one last time before snapping off his latex gloves and tossing them in a trash bin. “A few days rest and Mulan will be good as new.”  

He grabbed his clipboard; began adding notes in uneven lines. “I heard about the hullabaloo she caused in the atrium. Worst case of Vault Depressive Syndrome I’ve ever seen,” he intoned.

“Cut the crap,” Nora interrupted. And Whale’s eyes jerked up to meet hers. “I know what you’ve been doing. You and Cora and the Overseer. You’ve concocted all of this. VDS…the treatments…It’s all bullshit. A cover story for your kidnapping conspiracy.”

The doctor folded his arms behind his back; studied Nora with practiced concern. “You look a little peaked yourself Nora. Are you well?”

“Fuck you.”

Nora began to move around the clinic; pushing chairs and tables around; opening closet doors.

“What are you doing?” Whale asked. “Hey! You can’t touch that. Those tools are sterilized.”

“Do you have any wheelchairs?” Nora asked him.

“It’s your arm that needs fixing Nora, not your legs. Take a seat and I’ll give you a once-over”

And the doctor actually reached for her. His fingers grabbing for her injured arm.

“I’ll break every bone in your hand,” Nora threatened.

Whale retracted his hand. Swallowed nervously. “Why do you need a wheelchair?” he asked.

“I’m getting Mulan out of here. And Belle. So I’ll actually need two wheelchairs”

Whale’s hands clenched around his clipboard. “You can’t move them. They’re sick!”

“I think you’re the sick one, doc.”

And when Nora couldn’t find a wheelchair in the final supply closet, she improvised.

“Piper, grab one of those rolling chairs there. You get Mulan, and I’ll snag Belle.”

“You’re out of your mind,” Whale accused. His face downturned and pouty like a sulking child.

“Must be a touch of VDS,” Nora responded sarcastically.

And she situated a rolling chair next to Belle’s bed. Tried to figure out the best way to move the slumbering woman when she only had one working arm.

Fuck it. She’d carry Belle out of the vault piggyback-style if she had to.

“Step away from there.”

Regina. Standing in the hospital doorway, flanked by two security officers.

“Come to lock me up?” Nora asked. Squaring her shoulders. Preparing for an ambush.

“We’ve given you more than enough time to make your exit, Nora. But once again, you’ve proven to be obstinate. These officers are going to escort you and your friend out of the vault. _Peaceably_ ,” Regina directed to her guards.

“An escort would be helpful actually,” Nora replied.  And she turned to one of the officers. “ _You_ , help me grab Belle.”

“Belle’s not going with you,” Regina interrupted. “Neither is Mulan.”

Nora’s eyes flashed. “Like hell they aren’t.”

And Regina had suddenly had enough. The vault leader stomped forward, an index finger pointed at Nora’s chest. “I’m all out of patience, Nora. Now you leave this vault at once or so help me—”

“You’ll what? Have one of your guards club me into unconsciousness like they did Mulan? Or maybe you’ll order the good doctor to force-feed me some happy juice until I’m catatonic like Belle?”

Whale perked up at being mentioned. “It’s not catatonia _exactly_ ,” he clarified. “It’s more like a protracted sleep.”

“Shut up Whale!” Nora and Regina barked the order simultaneously.

Whale immediately clammed up; scurrying toward his medicine cabinet to polish the multitudinous bottles on display.

Regina turned back to Nora. Drifted closer until she was within arm’s reach of the woman.

“I’m not going to let my officers hurt you, Nora.” Regina told her. Her voice whisper-soft and pleading. “I’m not going to let _anyone_ hurt you. But you have to leave now. While you still have the chance.”

Nora’s face softened. Her last vestiges of hope surfacing. “It’s your mother, isn’t it? She’s the one behind all of this. Look, Regina, if Cora is forcing you to do these... _things_ …I can help you. If you and I work together, maybe we can—"

“ _I’m_ the Overseer of this vault, Nora. Nothing happens without my say-so.” Nora exhaled. Crestfallen. Hopes dashed. “And I don’t need your help. Not anymore. I just need you out of this vault. Out of my sight.”

And Regina motioned to her guards; signaling them to seize Nora and Piper.

Nora could only stare at Regina. Betrayed. “How can you be this fucking cruel?” Nora asked her; genuinely bewildered. “I defended you. Said that you were good. That you were incapable of such… _evil_.” Regina’s mouth twisted; some emotion seeping through. “You stole Belle from her family. Five fucking years, she’s been missing! No telling how long Mulan’s been trapped here.”

“There are things going on here that you don’t understand,” Regina replied icily. “Things you _can’t_ understand.”

“Help me understand then. Why do you even _need_ Belle and Mulan? Why did you abduct them in the first place?  Are you and this fucking…mad scientist over here harvesting organs or something?”

And Whale actually looked offended by Nora’s word choice. “Mad scientist? That was uncalled for,” he pouted.

Regina narrowed her eyes at the doctor before refocusing her attention Nora. “I’m giving you an opportunity to leave, Nora. You should take it.”

“Not without them.” Nora put an arm beneath Belle; grunted with the effort, tried to lift. “And you’d better hope that I don’t come back here with a bulldozer, Regina. Raze this entire fucking vault to the ground. You can’t keep people locked up if you don’t have a front door.”

Nora struggled with Belle’s weight. Couldn’t keep a firm grip.

Piper had managed to get Mulan into her rolling chair and was using bedsheets to strap the woman in. “Give me a sec, Blue, and I’ll help you,” she panted. 

Piper was out of breath; sweating beneath her press cap; the smears of blood from before drying against her leather armor like renegade paint.

“Tell your friend to step away from Mulan,” Regina asked Nora.

And the security officers—the bulky stalwarts who usually guarded Overseer’s office—hovered in anticipation.

Nora glared at Regina; so much distaste in her eyes that it caused the Overseer to flinch. “Not a chance.”

Nora tried again to lift Belle and failed.

The click of heels caught Nora’s attention.

Regina had moved to her side; stared at Nora with unfathomable eyes.

“Would you listen to me and stop being so damn stubborn? I’m trying to do what’s best for you.”

Nora scoffed. But she couldn't help being affected by Regina’s proximity; by the thrum of her voice; her brown eyes.

Nora hated her.

“You used me,” Nora accused. Voice clotted with pain. “From the very beginning. You only wanted me to find Mulan so that you could silence her. Then you were planning to silence me.”

Regina shook her head. “I wasn’t.”

“I opened up to you. Told you about Nate. My _son_ …”  

“And I told you about the Daniel.”

The two women had forgotten that there were other people in the room. Nora and Regina locked eyes; totally fixated. Theirs were mirrored expressions of hurt and betrayal.

“You lied to me Regina.”  

“Not everything was a lie.”

And Regina’s hand moved towards Nora, unbidden. Fluttering near Nora’s face as if it couldn’t decide where to land.

And God help her, Nora anticipated the press of skin. Craved it even.

 “Oi, Outsider!”

Nora startled at the sudden rumble of Whale’s voice. She tore her eyes from Regina, turned her attention to the doctor.

Whale was pointing a gun at her. One of the small revolvers that store clerks in Diamond City kept beneath their cash registers for protection.

Whale fired with pinpoint accuracy. Caught Nora in the chest; sent her flying. And before Piper could even reach for her weapon, he’d shot again. A projectile sinking into Piper’s abdomen and sending the news reporter slumping into Mulan’s newly vacant hospital bed.

“Good shot Whale,” the doctor tittered, congratulating himself.

“You idiot!” Regina roared as she rushed to Nora’s side. Nora lay limp against the floorboards, and Regina pressed a hand to the woman’s throat, checking…

The Overseer fixed Whale with a stare so vicious that the doctor actually gulped.

“I didn’t have a choice, did I?” he prevaricated. “Your lover’s quarrel was dragging on, and I have afternoon appointments. Besides…We can’t just let her leave. She knows too much. And Cora's decided to keep her.”

Whale motioned to the guards. Bade them to collect the bodies.


	16. Chapter 16

_What are we going to do with them?_

_What we did with the others. Reeducation and assimilation. Easy peasy._

_None of this is easy. And I-- I don’t want that for Nora._

_Doesn’t matter what you want, Regina. Cora’s already decided. And we know how **prickly** your mother can be when she doesn’t get her way. _

_Daniel…_

_Um hmm. But think of it this way, ‘Gina. Now your girlfriend will be in the vault full-time. Long distance relationships so seldom work out, you know?_

_I will **end** you, Whale. Don’t say another word. _

_‘Gina—_

_And don’t **ever** call me ‘Gina. _

_But I thought we were friends._

_Idiot. The moment my Mother tires of you--_

. . .

The first thing Nora saw when she woke was yellow.

The cheery plastic dandelion that Ruby had gifted her, perched in its glass on the Overseer’s desk.

The Overseer had kept the flower. Some sort of memento of their lone night together.

It should have been romantic—that Regina had kept the dandelion as a keepsake—but Nora could only glare irritably at the plastic flower. It seemed to be mocking her with its presence. Yellow and _there_ and fake.

Everything in this damn vault was fake. 

Nora reached forward to strangle the flower; to smash the glass pitcher to bits; but she found she couldn’t move. Her arms were bound at her sides. She’d been tied to one of the visitor’s chairs in the Overseer’s office. Piper was seated next to her, similarly restrained.

The news reporter’s head lolled from side to side. Her press cap gone from her head; her wavy brown hair falling into her eyes.

“Piper,” Nora called out. And her throat was so dry that it came out a gasp. “Pipes, wake up!”

The news reported jerked in her chair; a quick snort; and she tried to blink herself to consciousness.

“Enjoy your nap?” Dr. Whale asked.

The doc was sitting in Regina’s office chair, munching on one of her blood-red apples. And he swung his legs back and forth in the towering chair as if here a child with excess energy. The doctor grinned at Nora before taking another obnoxious bite of the fruit.

“Whale, when I get free of these ropes--” Nora threatened.

“Now, now Nora… I was just beginning to like you. But any more threats or insults and I’ll have to reconsider my affections.”

Nora growled. Fidgeted in her seat; tried to find a way to loosen her bonds.

Piper groaned beside her. “I feel like I’ve been hit with a sledgehammer,” Piper croaked. Another groan escaping her throat as her eyes readjusted to light. “On second thought …I’ve actually been hit with a sledgehammer before and this is much worse.”

“Tranquilizers are a _bitch_ , huh?” Whale asked conversationally. “Sorry I had to shoot you ladies, but I have a clinic to run and the two of you were manhandling my patients. Or… _woman-handling_ I suppose.”

“Where’s Regina?” Nora asked. Tired already of the man’s neuroticisms and wanting something more substantial than a plastic flower to focus her ire on.

“Regina will be along shortly. She had to go see about the vault door. Make sure it was operational again. Can’t have any more of you Outsiders sauntering in here.” He smirked. “Not until we summon you anyway.”

He’d reached the apple core and he threw the remains of the fruit in the general direction of Regina’s garbage bin. Didn’t bother to see if it landed.

The doctor smacked his lips in satisfaction then hopped to his feet.

“ _Now_ , I suppose you’re wondering what all of this is about,” he inquired of Nora. “Belle…Mulan…vault depressive syndrome…all that.”

Nora shook her head. “If this is the part of the story where the supervillain gives a long-winded speech revealing his master plan, then please spare me. I’ve fought enough baddies in the Commonwealth and have heard every iteration of this lame ass speech. Hard pass.”

Whale looked disappointed. “But I _rehearsed_ ,” he protested. “I had to do _something_ while the two of you were sleeping off the tranquilizers.”

“That’s why I like fighting ghouls," Piper hiccuped; still loopy from the sedative. "Raiders, religious zealots, evil scientists…Hell, even super mutants…they always want to _pontificate_ before a fight. Recruit you to their side or moralize you to death. Ghouls though? They just get on with it.”

And the reporter hiccupped again, face falling into her shirt and staying.

“Piper?” Nora asked. Worry lacing her tone. She tried to scoot closer to her friend, but her chair wouldn’t budge. “Come on Pipes, wake up.”

“The tranquilizer will wear off a few minutes, don’t worry,” Whale assured. “That wasn’t even a full dose I injected you with. I knew better than to endanger Regina’s paramour.”

And he patted Nora on her head as if she were a puppy.

Nora tried to headbutt him.

“Ah ah ah ah…” Whale tsked as he maneuvered out of her reach. “All of this hostility for me Nora when I’m not even your enemy.”

“You shot me Whale.”

“But only a little.”

“You have me tied to a chair.”

“You were unconscious and falling over. The ropes are there to keep you in place. Besides, I think the constraints will do wonders for your injured shoulder. It seems to be healing rather slowly.”

“Whale, stop talking and get Regina in here,” Nora snapped. Still fidgeting in her seat, trying again to free herself.

Whale frowned. “The two of you are at that stage in your relationship where you can’t be apart for very long, huh?” He shook his head sadly. “Regina was _hovering_ the entire time you were unconscious and being quite snappish about the whole thing. It’s a little obsessive, don’t you think?”

And he scrunched his face at Nora as if he were genuinely concerned about her love life.

“ _Regina_ ,” Nora demanded again.

“In due time,” Whale promised. “But first…my speech.” And the ridiculous man actually cleared his throat. “I’m not the bad guy here, Nora. To tell you the truth, I’m not even in _charge_. I’m more like the loveable sidekick. Or dare I say…the affable hero?” He thought about it. “ _Yes._ The hero. Or, at the very least, hero-adjacent.”

“You’re a nut-job is what you are.”

“That's not very nice.”

“Nut-job adjacent then. Is that better, Whale?” Nora scoffed. “A fucking hero…Yeah right…You’re a lowlife in a lab coat, Whale.”

Whale was taken aback. “But I haven’t done anything wrong. I haven’t hurt anyone.”

Nora wriggled against her ropes. “Oh, really?”

“You are being restrained for medical purposes.”

“What about what you did to Belle and Mulan? You abducted them.”

“I _saved_ them. They think they’re trapped in the vault? They were actually trapped on the _Outside_. We rescued them from a life of torment and toil. From the snarling beasts of Yonder. From radiation and disease.”

“Exactly which scripture are you reading from, Whale?” Nora asked sarcastically.

“You make fun, but what we did for Belle and Mulan—for _all_ of the Outsiders fortunate enough to be granted entrance into the vault—it merits praise not condescension. Our mission is a compassionate one.”

“For fucks sake…you kidnap people!”

“We solicit volunteers.”

“You brainwash them.”

“We _civilize_.”

“Just shut up Whale!  Shut the _fuck_ …!” Nora nearly choked in her rage. “Kill me. Tranquilize me. Whatever you plan to do, do it.  Just… _please_ …don’t _talk_ while you’re doing it.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Nora but—at the moment—the only thing I’m authorized to do _is_ talk, so…”

And he peered down to ascertain Piper’s condition. “Your friend must be a lightweight. She should be well out of her stupor by now.”

“You’d better hope she comes to Whale, or I _swear_ to every god that’s left on this godforsaken planet, I’m going to feed you headfirst to a Gatorclaw.”

“I’m not exactly sure what that is, but it sounds unpleasant.”

The doctor took an exaggerated step back from Nora, creating distance. His eyes landed on the plastic dandelion on Regina’s desk and Whale extended a hand, tracing a finger along the fictile petals. 

“Don’t touch that,” Nora warned.

Whale quirked an eyebrow. “Sentimental, is it?” he asked curiously. But after another lazy swipe with his finger, he retracted his hand. “Nora, you’ve been inside a number of vaults before, right? Before this one?”

“You remember what I said about _not_ talking?” 

Whale smiled. An easy tilt of mouth that would have been charming had the man not been insane.

“Of the vaults you’ve visited, how many still had thriving populations?”

Nora sucked her teeth; refused to answer. She didn’t want to be the in same room with the wacky doctor, let alone be subjected to his bombastic monologues.  

But her mind wandered. Remembered.

All the vaults she’d explored—save Vault 108 and Vault 81—had been glaringly empty. Devoid of everything but rubble and bone. An absence of life that been so comprehensive that Nora had anticipated ghosts around every corner. Death and more death.

Whale nodded happily. Reading Nora’s thoughts. “Vaults were designed so that at least of remnant of humanity could survive nuclear war. And Vault-Tech did an estimable job protecting those select few from radiation and nuclear fallout. But no one made plans for when the war ended. For that time when the food supply dwindled and the air and water filtration systems malfunctioned. When the petty rivalries between vaulters grew into bloody infighting. When the cabin fever became madness.”

He picked up one of the manuals from Regina’s desk; tossed it near Nora’s feet. “Vault-Tech gave us guide books and charts, but they never warned us that a single fever could turn into plague. Or that fire could spread rapidly in an underground structure—kill dozens upon dozens of residents. They gave us all of these handbooks and shiny gadgets, but they didn’t prepare us for death.  For _mass_ death. We thought extinction was an Old World problem, but it followed us below ground." 

Whale’s eyes gleamed wildly; all traces of humor gone. The sheen of his eyes bright and erratic like the crackle of flame he must have witnessed all those year ago. 

“We numbered two hundred when the war began. At least that’s what the records show. Two hundred vaulters in perfect health. And by the time I was born, and Regina, we were at one hundred fifty vaulters. Some population decline is to be expected, of course, with sickness and old age; decreased reproduction and all that. But by the time I was a young adult, we were at eighty and steadily declining. There were vacancies all over. People, just  _gone_. Entire families. Entire wings of the vault: empty. Then one winter, a virus swept through the vault—some sort of airborne sickness—and it thinned our numbers even more. I was going to quarantine the sick but…well… _everyone_ was sick. It wasn’t long before the dead outnumbered the living. The incinerators burned throughout the night. Body after body interred.”

Whale’s face blanched. And he rubbed a hand across his brow as if such movement would supplant the memory. “When it finally ended; when the last of our dead was interred; there were less than twenty us. Not nearly enough people to keep the vault running. We needed teachers and custodians and cooks. People who could fill those vacant spaces in the classroom and dining hall. People who could replace what we had lost.”

Nora could only stare at the doctor, horrified by what he’d revealed. By what he’d yet to reveal.

“ _Cora_ …” Whale continued. His voice a velvet purr when he spoke the woman’s name. “She was a visionary. She convinced the Overseer--the old one, Leopold--to send an emergency broadcast. To invite Outsiders into the vault to help replenish our population. Leopold had taken to alcohol by that time. All of the deaths had taken something out of him, so he let Cora do what she wanted. She sent the broadcast and a wave of Outsiders showed up. All of a sudden we had an influx of new faces. New _life_.”

But Nora could see beyond the bullshit; the earnest words. “How’d you take their memories Whale?" she asked him tiredly. 

Whale’s mouth stretched into a thin line. Something like regret on his face.

“It was an accident,” he admitted. “Some of the Outsiders showed up because they wanted someplace safe to live. Others, like Mulan, got our emergency broadcast and thought we were in distress. They came to help.” His eyes twinkled with admiration. “Mulan must have been some type of warrior on the Outside. She showed up in this gargantuan metal armor. Nearly as wide as the vault door. And she was carrying a rocket launcher.”

Nora’s stomach plummeted, and the wastelander shook her head sadly. “She's Brotherhood of Steel. You took a Brotherhood of Steel soldier and turned her into a mindless puppet.”

“We didn’t mean to. We hadn’t any contact with people from the Outside. Didn’t know if your lot was irradiated or diseased. We couldn’t have Outsiders bringing more sickness into the vault. Not when we’d already lost so much of our population. So we decontaminated them. I went into the lab, and I fashioned a medication out of the antitoxins from the hospital and the chemicals that we use to grow our food. A multivitamin. Something that would purify the Outsiders of infection. And it worked. The multivitamin cured them of their radiation; their poxes. But…and I guess it’s a testament to my own genius, really… the vitamin worked _too_ well. The Outsiders lost their memories. Everything gone in one fell swoop. I guess since they weren’t vault-born and accustomed to the high-grade chemicals like we were, the medicine just sort of overran their immune systems. Wiped them clean. We could have expelled them back into the wastes. Let them work things out on their own, but we were kind. We gave them new memories. New lives. We assimilated them into the vault and they never knew the difference.”

“Mulan knew the difference. So did Belle.”

"Well, occasionally we do get an Outsider who develops a resistance to the medication. Their old identity resurface and we have to reprocess them. More medication. More memories.”

“How’d you manage to give the Outsiders new memories?”

“Tabula rasa, my dear. It’s remarkable how moldable the human mind is when it’s brand-spanking-new. You can knead it. Imprint upon it whatever you want. Suggestion and repetition, Nora. That combination is more potent than any drug I’ve ever administered.”

And Nora remembered. Regina asking Belle: _Who are you?_

And Belle reciting: _I am Belle._

Repeated until it stuck.

Nora exhaled; overcome. “How many vaulters are really from the Outside?” she asked the doctor.

“Almost all of them. Save me, Regina, Cora. Graham. A few others.”  

“Granny?” Whale nodded. “ _Jesus_.”

The old woman had tried to warn Nora. _Don’t go poking at things ‘round here. Never know what you might find._

“What you’re doing Whale…it’s sick. Those Outsiders showed up at Vault 108 expecting respite from the wasteland and you introduced them to something far worse.”

“Nonsense. They’re safer here. They’re happy.”

“Mulan doesn’t seem happy. Or Belle.”

“Two out of two hundred, Nora. In medicine, we call that statistical significance.”

“Well, in the Commonwealth, we call it human trafficking.”

 “Now you’re being deliberately negative.”

“You could have sent them home, Whale. You say the memory loss was accidental: _fine_. But once you saw that it was reversible…Once Mulan’s and Belle’s memories came back—and God knows how many other residents’—you could have corrected your mistake and sent them back Outside to their families.”

“Perhaps. But where would that leave the vault? Were you not paying attention during my parable? We needed the labor. Besides, if we let the Outsiders leave they may come back with an army or a _bulldozer--_ ” He glared at Nora, “--and interfere with our operation. And we can’t have that. What started out as an accident has become quite the boon for our little metropolis, and this operation isn’t one we plan to abandon any time soon. population dwindles Our and we send an emergency broadcast. Then we wait.”

Nora grunted. Felt something coil in her belly; tight and painful. ‘Cause it didn’t matter what year it was. Old World or New. Pre-war or post. Commonwealth or vault. Human beings seemed to delight in depravity.

“Is that why you sent the emergency broadcast that lured me here? You had another vacancy to fill?"

"Oh, no. That was all Mulan. If we'd have sent the broadcast, you'd have new memories by now." He fixed Nora with a steely stare. "'Course, that might happen anyway. Cora has plans for you and your friend." 

Nora's scowl was immediate. "You’re going to mindfuck us into slavery too, huh?" 

Whale was aghast. “ _Slavery_? You’re wrong Nora. What we have here in Vault 108 is paradise.” And when Nora scoffed, the doctor leaned forward to emphasize. “What did your world ever give those Outsiders but monsters and starvation? Here in the vault, they're safe. They have an improved quality of life. They have friends and family." 

"Their friends and family are out there. They just don't remember." 

"I wish you could see what we're trying to do here. You could work _with_ us. Put all of that grit and experience to use. Be a recruiter in our enterprise."

"A kidnapper, you mean." 

"Semantics." 

Nora bared her teeth and growled at the despicable man. "I'd rather die Whale." 

Whale pursed his lips. "Well, that can be arranged."

. . .

Whale was playing catch with a glass ball from the Overseer’s desk. Some trinket that looked fragile and expensive and that would probably have the Overseer strangling him the moment she returned to the office.

The doctor tossed the ball from one hand to another; whistling while he cavorted around the room like a puppy with a new chew toy.

Nora stole a glance at Piper. The news reporter was still unconscious.  

“I thought you said the tranquilizer would wear off,” Nora told the doctor.

Whale let the glass ball slide out of his hand, roll across the floor. “She should be awake by now. Maybe I did use a little too much of the sedative.”

And he hastened to Piper’s side; put a finger against the woman’s throat to check her pulse. “You won’t be _too_ mad at me if she dies, will you?” he asked Nora. 

And before Nora could respond, Piper headbutted the doctor; catching him square across the chin. Whale crumbled immediately; pitching sideways into a slump on the floor.

A smile lit across Nora's face. “You were faking it,” she asked her friend. 

“I came to somewhere in the middle of his sermon.” And Piper frowned at the downed man. “God, he’s a jackass.”

Nora grinned at the uncharacteristic profanity but then immediately sobered. “We have to get out of here Pipes before they turn us into one of their pod people.”

And both women began to struggle against their ropes; trying to free their arms, legs, anything.

Piper grimaced as the nylon rope pulled against her skin.

“This reminds me of the time when I went undercover with the Children of Atom cult," she grunted. "No reporter has ever gotten close enough to get an inside story, but I was committed. I irradiated myself and everything. Dang near looked like a magic marker by the time I made it to the Glowing Sea. Thought I could pass as one of their own. The cult leader took one look at me and knew I was a mark. They tied me up and hung me over the crater. They were going to let the radiation finish me.”

“How’d you get free?” And Nora almost had her arm loose; if she could just reach that one knot…

“I told them that I was a renowned reporter and that a feature story on the cult would attract new followers. They released me almost immediately. Even gave me an exclusive.”

The two women exchange a glance and chortled. "Nothing like a cult with celebrity ambitions." And finally Nora’s hand was free. “There!”

It took less than a minute to loosen the rest of the rope. And then she was untying Piper. Both women groaning as they stretched sore limbs.

“Now what?” Piper asked. And she bent down to transfer the ropes to the unconscious doctor.

The dandelion caught Nora’s eye.

_Fucking yellow._

“The Overseer,” she muttered.


	17. Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

 

“Leroy, we have to have this door fixed by nightfall. There’s no telling what kind of beasts of the wild could come waltzing in here.”

“Overseer, if your plan was to scare me into working faster, you’ve succeeded.”

The technician redoubled his efforts to repair the door’s hinges.

“Just get it done,” Regina reiterated before stalking over to the trio of guards who were covering the vault door. “Graham, you and your team are to stay here guarding this door until it’s fully sealed. I don’t want anything getting inside the vault. Not even a fruit fly.”

“I don’t think the Outside has fruit flies ma’am,” Leroy called out, struggling with the massive power tool he was handling. “The bugs out there are way larger than that. You know how a big a cat is, yeah? Well, the bugs from the Outside? They would eat that cat.”

“And how would you know that Leroy?” Regina questioned sharply.

Leroy’s face scrunched into a frown. ‘I don’t know...”

“Stop dawdling and work,” Regina ordered, a frown forming of her face.

Regina stomped away, joining her mother at the tunnel entrance. The Overseer breathed in relief as she stepped back into the air-conditioned space.

“I think that vitamin of Whale’s is losing its potency,” she told Cora. “More and more vaulters are getting flashes of old memories.”

Cora shrugged, unconcerned. “Then we’ll increase the dosage,” the older woman responded stiffly before narrowing her eyes at her daughter’s flushed face. “Use a handkerchief, darling. You’re perspiring.”

Regina edged a finger along her brow, capturing the tiny beads of sweat that had collected during her time in the humid tunnel.

Cora glared at daughter before fishing a knitted cloth from her own uniform and dabbing at Regina’s mottled skin.

“Have I taught you nothing about manners?” she scolded.

Regina pulled away from her mother’s touch. “We can’t continue on this way, Mother.”

Cora rolled her eyes and tucked the cloth back into her pocket. “Fine. Sweat like a commoner then.”

“That’s not what I mean. We can’t continue over-medicating the residents. You saw what the high doses did to Belle. Are we going to have the entire vault confined to the hospital ward?”

“I won’t have the good order of this vault disturbed, Regina. I don’t care if the vitamin makes the vaulters baa like sheep, so long as they complete their work detail and they follow our rules.”

Regina huffed irritably. “Why did you even make me Overseer when you never listen to me? Everything always has be your way, Mother. You should have just installed yourself as Overseer once you got rid of Leopold. Left me in the nursery like I wanted.”

Regina went to move past her mother, but Cora gripped her daughter’s arm, squeezed tight.

“I appointed you Overseer, darling, because I wanted _more_ for you. We were ushering in a new era of the vault. New life. New beginnings. I wanted you to head that transition. To have _power_. Not spend your days in some glorified garden patch playing with fertilizer.” And she smiled. An almost loving curve of her mouth. “Making you Overseer was my gift to you, Regina.”  The smile transmuted quickly, became a frown. “And you’re squandering that gift. Ready to risk it all. _Again_. For something as trivial as love.”

Regina wrenched her arm away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That woman, Regina. She makes you weak. And disobedient. Just like Daniel used to.”  

A shadow crossed Regina’s face, and the Overseer’s eyes narrowed in warning. “Don’t you _dare_ speak his name.”

A cruel smile lit upon Cora’s face. “Still so hostile after all this time. Exactly how long do you intend to hold this grudge, Regina?”

“It’s not a grudge, Mother. You killed Daniel. I’ll never forgive you for that.”

“You can’t blame me for Daniel’s demise dear. He tried to take you away from me. The two of you tried to open the vault door and go Outside. Did you really think I would let you risk the vault like that? That I would let you risk your own life following that boy into the desert?”

“Daniel just wanted to go home, Mother.  You could have let him leave.”

“Ah, but he wanted to take you with him, and I couldn’t have that.”

Regina blinked back tears. Even after all this time, it still hurt. Losing the love of her life at her mother’s hand. Watching him bleed out on the cavern floor.

“Daniel was the one person who wasn’t afraid of you. Or of me. Who actually saw me as more than Cora’s daughter. Who loved me.”

Cora’s smile was almost pitying. “But _I_ love you darling…” Cora put a hand against Regina’s cheek. Left it there even though the other woman flinched. “Everything I do is in your best interest. Even Daniel…” Regina’s eyes flashed. “You wouldn’t have lasted five minutes in the wasteland, Regina. I saved you.”

Regina twisted away from her mother’s grasp. “You’ve doomed me to being friendless despot. To being a co-conspirator in your and Whale’s plot!”

Cora folded her arms across her chest and stared disapprovingly at her daughter’s outburst.  

“Why don’t you just announce it over the loudspeaker?”

“I don’t want to do this anymore, Mother.”

“ _This_ again. We’ve been over this, Regina. There is no other way. We have to ensure the vault’s survival.”

“But at what cost?” Daniel and Belle and Mulan. The dozens of other vaulters who’d had their minds turned into soup so that they could be compliant. Regina gritted her teeth and actually stomped her feet in irritation. “I won’t continue!”

“You’re far too old for tantrums, Regina.”

“I never wanted this…to be Overseer…to use the vitamin. I just wanted to be normal. To have friends and affection and romance…”

And she thought of Daniel. His wide-lipped smile and easy charm; the only vaulter not intimidated by Regina’s aloofness, by Cora’s menacing demeanor.

“All I’ve ever wanted was to be happy,” Regina admitted.

Cora chuckled. Her eyes deep and penetrating pools of malice.

“You’ll never be happy Regina. You don’t know how. Even as a child, you were petulant and would cry about the smallest things. Hang-nails and hurt feelings, being excluded from ridiculous parlor games. Such a pretty face you had, but you always soiled it with tears.” Cora scowled at her daughter and stepped forward angrily. “You can never be happy, Regina, because you _feel_ too much. You’re weak and sentimental. Concerned about romance when you should be worried about _survival_. I’m trying to teach you about power. Why trouble yourself with frivolities like friendship and love when you can have obedience?”

“I want more than that.”

“Soon you’ll have nothing at all. Your people are regaining their memories, and you have an interloper upstairs who’s committed to tearing down everything we’ve built. If we don’t silence her, and soon, we’ll lose everything we’ve worked for.”

Regina’s lips curled into a snarl. “I won’t let you hurt Nora, Mother.”

“Let me?” Cora laughed. “Regina, you may frighten every other resident in this vault, but all I see when I look at you is a little girl. A spoiled little girl trying her damnedest to hold on to a toy she’s outgrown.”

Cora’s reached for Regina again. Let the pad of her thumb brush the hollow of Regina’s throat. The same spot she’d gripped as she sunk her dagger into Daniel’s chest.

“I’ll be lenient this time, Regina. I overreacted with Daniel, I admit that. And it’s taken you so long to forget him…”

Regina closed her eyes. Thought for a moment of Daniel’s soft body. Long and sprawling in her arms, the blood thick around him; an unremittent flow from the jagged hole in his torso.

“I won’t kill your Outsider.  She’ll be reprogrammed like the others and put to work. We can even assign her to be your secretary so that you can see her regularly. You’ll have your requisite _romance_ and the vault will have another worker. We both win.”

“No.”

“I’m not asking permission, Regina. That woman threatens our way of being. Either she takes the vitamin, or she dies.”

“You won’t touch a hair on her head.” Regina pulled away from her mother and stomped towards the stairwell that led to her office. “I’m releasing her.”

Cora followed. “I forbid it! I’ll see to it that that woman doesn’t step a foot outside of these vault walls.”

Regina quickened her pace, trying to create distance between her and her mother, but the women’s exit was interrupted by a stampede of bodies. Nora and Piper barreled into the vault entryway, pushing a set of rolling chairs that carried Belle and Mulan. Doctor Whale hopped wildly in front of them, trussed-up like a goose, his face covered with bruises.  

The doctor’s face crumpled when he saw Cora.

“She hit me,” he whined. Motioning his head towards Nora. “More than once.”

“You fool!” Cora hissed. “Are you really this incompetent? They were drugged and bound!”

“But they double-teamed me!”

Cora snarled ferociously, and the doctor whimpered; bouncing back in forth as if he couldn’t tell which woman in his proximity was more dangerous.  

“Sit,” Nora told the man. And she shoved Whale, hard, onto the metal floor.

“Not nice!” the doctor complained. 

Nora used her good arm to push Belle down the ramp towards the vault tunnel. Piper followed closely with Mulan.

“How did you get past the guards?” Cora demanded as Nora drew closer.  

“She used me as a shield,” Whale groused from the floor.

“We’re getting out of this vault,” directed at Cora. “Try to stop us and things will get ugly.”

Piper already had her pistol unholstered and in hand. With her other hand, she gripped Mulan’s chair and did her best to keep the dozing woman steady.

Cora scowled at the Outsiders. Unintimidated. “Graham!” the older woman called out.

Within seconds the vault officer had emerged from the vault tunnel, sweating and expectant.

Graham sighed when he saw the ragtag cavalcade. Still, he raised his weapon and awaited instruction.

“Shoot them,” Cora demanded.

Piper raised her gun at Graham.  Nora’s good arm was occupied holding Belle’s chair steady. Still, the Outsider shifted into defensive position. Readied her body to engage with the security officer.

Graham hesitated. “You want me to shoot all of them?” he questioned. “Belle and Mulan too?”

Cora whirled on him. “Don’t question me, damn it! Just shoot!”

Graham steeled himself, his finger on the trigger.  Nora positioned her body between Belle and Mulan. Piper took aim.

It was going to be a shootout.

Before Graham could fire, Regina stepped in the way. Her hand against Graham’s rifle, pushing it down.   

 “Let them pass,” Regina advised the guard.   

“Don’t be foolish, Regina,” Cora objected. “We can’t just let them walk out of here. They know too much. They could come back with reinforcements.” 

And the older woman signaled again for Graham to shoot Nora and Piper anyway.

Graham was trapped by the intensity of the Overseer’s gaze, and the officer wisely stayed rooted to the spot.  

“I’m the Overseer, and I decide what’s best for the vault.” Regina directed the guard to holster his weapon. “Tell Leroy to halt repair of the door, and let the other officers know that Nora and her friend are to leave unharmed.”

“Belle and Mulan too,” Nora interjected.

She and Regina exchanged a look. Heated and long. Regina was the first to look away.  

“Fine,” Regina assented. “Belle and Mulan too.”

Graham nodded. Sneaking one more glance in Cora’s direction (the older woman looked positively murderous) before disappearing back into the vault tunnel.

“You stupid girl,” Cora seethed. “You would jeopardize the vault for this bit of wasteland trash?”  

And even though Nora outsized her by a fair margin, Cora seemed ready to launch herself at Nora and attack her with her bare hands.

“Let them by, Mother.”

A muscle ticked in Cora’s jaw, but in a surprising move, the woman stepped aside. Let Nora and Piper ease past her with the rolling chairs.

Nora struggled to balance her chair on the sandy embankment, but when Regina moved to help her, Nora recoiled.

“Don’t touch me,” Nora warned. Her eyes blazing and dangerous.

Regina swallowed thickly. Took a step back. “Sorry,” she murmured.

Nora and Piper guided the chairs down the dark tunnel, the sound of the wheels loud and grating against the dirt floor.  It was tough going, but Nora and Piper managed to get the rolling chairs through the vault tunnel, to the cracked vault door.

Leroy squatted in the dirt, mopping the sweat from his face with the sleeve of his jumpsuit. The mechanic seemed entranced by the steam of sunlight filtering through the open door, and he kept staring at the beam of yellow-gold, his eyes wide and quizzical.

“Wonder if it hurts?” he asked no one in particular. “It’s so pretty, it has to hurt.” And he stretched out a finger; let the rays of light touch him.

The other two guards moved out of the way, made room for Nora and Piper and their drowsing companions. 

“I should come with you,” Graham offered suddenly. “Help you transport Belle and Mulan to your destination.”

“You just had a rifle pointed at me,” Nora responded. Baffled by the man’s audacity. “Besides, you’re the reason Mulan’s unconscious in the first place.” Graham reddened in shame. “Plus, I don’t trust any of you vaultees. You’re a part of the Overseer’s grand conspiracy.”

“What conspiracy?” Leroy asked.

And the mechanic moved his eyes from the sunlight to Graham’s stricken face.

Nora ignored his question. Tried to mentally chart the quickest route from the vault to the nearest clinic.

“Two day’s travel,” she told Piper. “That’s if we don’t break for camp.”

Piper shook her head in consternation. “I don’t think we can manage that Blue. Not with these chairs and with your arm barely working.”

Nora glanced at the appendage hanging limp at her side; hyper-visible and dangling like ornamentation; like something that wasn’t part of her anymore.

“I think my arm’s gone,” she admitted to Piper. “I haven’t felt it in days.”

 “Oh Blue…” Piper lamented.

“But we can’t focus on that right now.” Her eyes drifted to Cora and Regina silhouetted in the dark tunnel like ghostly sentries. “I just want to get out of this vault. _Now_. Before I lose my shit.”

Already her breathing had grown erratic. Her eyes wild and frantic with memory and melancholy. The stress associated with being back inside a vault for so long.

“Maybe we should accept the bozo’s help then,” Piper ventured, nodding at Graham who had stooped down to examine Mulan and double-check that the wounded woman was breathing. “There’s a lot of road between here and Diamond City. We have to push these chairs all the way, and you won’t even be able to hold a weapon. We wouldn’t be able to fend off a pack of dogs let alone a horde of ghouls or raiders.”  

Nora lowered her voice even though Graham didn’t seem to be paying attention to their conversation. “I don’t trust him.”

“You have a better idea?”

“Maybe we can radio for help. See if Preston will send some of his Minutemen to meet us here. Or I can try to reach Danse. He’ll make the trip if I ask.”

Cait would have shown up to help, no question. If she and Nora were still on speaking terms.

Piper frowned at the mention of Danse; his association with the Brotherhood of Steel a constant vexation. “It’ll take days for Danse or the Minutemen to get here. That means more time hunkering down in this vault with the Terror Twins over there.”

And they both turned to stare at Regina and Cora who had followed them into the tunnel. The older woman stood there motionlessly, watching them with cold eyes. Regina stood at her elbow, pensive and quiet.

Nora scowled at both women before returning her attention to Graham.

“Fine,” she relented. “You can help us with the transport. But you’ll accompany us only as far as Warwick Homestead. I have friends there who can help us the rest of the way. You’re on your own getting back.”

Graham nodded energetically. The security officer seemed excited for an opportunity to redeem himself.

“Let me just clear it with the Overseer first. Then I’ll need a few minutes to pack my gear.”

The security officer took off in a mad dash.  

Nora watched the guard huddle with the Overseer and Cora. Regina’s eyes strayed to Nora’s. Lingered. Warm and brown like the first time Nora met her.

Nora looked away.

Leroy scratched at the scruff of his throat. Gazed broodingly at the hint of world he could see through the crack of the vault door.

“Boy’s a fool for volunteerin’ to go out into the Commonwealth,” Leroy muttered. “Everything’s mean out there. Mean and hungry.”

The technician blinked and rubbed at his throat again; seemed perplexed that he would know that much about the Outside. That he would know its proper name.

Nora sidled closer to Piper. Lowered her voice to a whisper as she stared down at Leroy “You know we’re going to have to come back, right?” she whispered. “For the rest of them?”

And her mind tracked over the hundreds of 108 vaulters who had been separated from their friends and families—their memories—for god knows how long.

“The vault door’s going to be closed by the time we get back, Blue. And despite what you said to the Overseer, there’s aren’t any working bulldozers in the Commonwealth. We won’t be able to get back in.”

“I’ll figure something out. Hell, I’ll use explosives if I have to. One way or another, we’re busting back in here and freeing these people.”

“And what if they don’t want to be set free?”

Nora’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Piper shrugged. “The only vaulters clamoring to escape this place are right here.” And she motioned at the Belle and Mulan. “Everybody else still thinks this vault is home. Isn’t that good enough? That we’re freeing the people who actually want to leave?”

“The others just don’t know any better—”

“And they _won’t_ know any better, Blue. Their memories of the Outside are long gone, and we can’t in good conscience send them into Commonwealth when they’ve been vault-farmed all this time. They’ll be easy-pickings for every raider and slaver that crosses their path.”

“Belle and Mulan’s memories came back. We’ll just have to find a way to return the other vaulters’ memories to them. Then they can choose which residence they’d prefer. The vault or the Outside.”

“Some choice.”

The news reporter fiddled with the bedsheets she’d used to strap Mulan to the rolling chair; her fingers quick and sure as she made sure the unconscious woman was securely fastened. There was a tenderness in her movements that made Nora pause.

“You know…” she said gently. “Mulan is a Brotherhood soldier.” Piper leveled Nora with a sharp stare.  “She doesn’t remember just yet, that’s she’s BOS, but it’ll come back eventually like her other memories.”

Nora gazed down at the Mulan, a fond look on her face. “A shame really. She showed up to the vault because she wanted to help. Like any good soldier. They took her armor. Took her memories. Abused her kindness.”

Even now it was hard to determine which violation was worse: the injury Mulan had taken to her body or the extensive damage that had been done to her mind.

Piper shook her head sadly but managed a small smile. “Why do I always gravitate towards the goody-two-shoes?” she asked.

And she smirked at Nora—signaling Nora’s inclusion in that category—before refocusing her attention on Mulan’s comfortability. It seemed her antagonism for everything Brotherhood of Steel could be temporarily suppressed.

Nora used her working hand to re-secure Belle before tugging a vial of Med-X out her travel pack. She expertly administered a dose of the potent chemical into her injured arm, wincing instinctively as the needle pierced her skin. But she couldn’t feel anything. From shoulder to finger was numb. Dead.

Before she could administer another dose of the medicine, Graham had returned, carrying a satchel; his vault-issued rifle strapped to his back.

“The Overseer permitted me to leave,” he panted, sweat running down him in rivulets, and Nora briefly wondered if the guard would be able to withstand the sun’s glare.

Graham smiled toothily at Nora, clearly eager for the adventure, and he reached hesitantly for Mulan’s chair, ready to take on his new role as caravan guard.

Piper glared at him. “I have this covered,” she said coldly. “Why don’t you take over for Nora?”

Graham blushed but moved obediently to Belle’s chair. When Nora nodded her assent, the guard gripped Belle’s chair with his off-hand; used his other hand to grip is side-arm. 

“Ready to go?” Piper asked Nora.

And the Outsider nodded. Abandoning the vial of Med-X; reaching for her goggles instead and the ammunition they would need to survive the long trek. “Let’s move out.”

“One second!”

Regina had approached them. Quietly. A sudden shadow interrupting the filter of the sunlight at the vault door.

“I need to speak to Nora,” Regina advised the group.  

Piper hesitated, a frown forming on her face, her protective instincts kicking in.

“Go ahead outside,” Nora told Piper and Graham. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“You sure?” Piper asked. And she and Regina exchanged a look so heated that it could have intimidated a Deathclaw.

“I’m sure,” Nora responded. “I’ll be right out. Graham, you might want to put on your helmet.”

Leroy threw his weight against the door, straining, and was able to produce another foot of space. Just enough for Piper and Graham to maneuver through, the wheels of the rolling chairs spinning wildly against the rocks and debris of the outside.

Sunlight streamed into the cavern, like a curtain wrenched open, and Graham balked at the heat of it; Leroy stared, smiling.

Belle and Mulan remained still, unnaturally asleep. Both women unaware that they were finally headed home.

. . .

Regina stopped within a foot of Nora. Seemed to hesitate behind some invisible barrier.

Perhaps the Overseer was afraid of the sunlight; of the Outside being so close. Or perhaps it was the look on Nora’s face that made the woman falter uncharacteristically.

The tension was so thick between the two women that Leroy took another step towards the sunlight; out of earshot and away from the burgeoning confrontation.

“Before you go, I wanted to apologize for the aggravation you’ve experienced within the vault,” Regina began. “I know we’ve inconvenienced you--"

“Or you going to offer me a survey too?” Nora interrupted. “Ask me to rate my stay?”

Regina trained her eyes on Nora. She was at her politician’s best. Unruffled and composed and doing her best to present a professional air.

“If this is to be our last conversation, I want it to be civil,” Regina said archly.

“Fuck you and your niceties,” Nora scoffed. “You had me tied to a chair not even an hour ago and were going to have me killed.”

“I was going to do no such thing!”

And Regina actually seemed offended by the accusation.

“At the very least, you were going to alter my memories. Once I identified Mulan and you silenced her, you were going to add me to the queue. Another worker bee for your factory.” Nora tilted her head in thought. “Or perhaps you intended to make me your personal plaything. A pliable Stepford wife?”

Regina frowned. “I had no design for you, Nora. Yes, I wanted you to find the informant so that I could re-secure the vault. But what happened between me and you was separate from all that. I didn’t anticipate it. I certainly didn’t plan it. Hurting you was the furthest thing from my mind.”

Regina trailed off, looked away. The veneer of professionalism temporarily fading. 

“I’m sorry,” Regina said softly. “For everything. For involving you. For letting Whale shoot you and Mother strap you to that chair.” Regina’s gaze returned to Nora’s. “I should have chased you out of the vault that very first day when you kicked the door and barged in all heroic and blustery.”

“I was sleepy and drooling. A far cry from heroic.”

Regina’s mouth up-turned; a faint smile. “Still, you made an impression.”

Nora almost got caught in it. The pull and allure. But she squinted her eyes closed; rubbed a hand across her brow; refocused.

“What you’re doing here is wrong,” she told Regina. “I’ve seen some fucked up shit in the Commonwealth…hell, I was a civil rights attorney before the war and saw some foul shit then, too. But what you’re doing here…it’s wrong, Regina. You have to know that.”

Regina nodded her head. Because she _did_ know. “The vault was staring down extinction. People were dying in droves. We had to improvise. Figure out a solution--"

“Whale already gave me this speech. And newsflash Regina, after the Great War, the whole fucking planet was facing extinction. Still, you find a way to survive that doesn’t necessitate you becoming a monster.” She took a step towards Regina; lowered her voice: “You had a choice. You could have abandoned the vault and tried to make it on the Outside. You could have taken a chance and let Outsiders into the vault without decontaminating and brainwashing them. You could have even used your fucking high-tech laboratory to discover a cure for the memory loss. Instead, you chose to lure hundreds of people from the Commonwealth. To steal them from their families, wipe their memories, and put them to work.” Her eyes flicked to Leroy. His eyes riveted by landscape he no longer remembered. “You know how much damage you’ve caused? To them? To their families? You’re no better than the slavers who stole Sean from me.”

“We’re not slavers—”

“You _are_. You’re worse actually. I don’t think I’ve ever seen an operation like this, and I’ve fought some fucking _bastards_ in the wasteland.”

“I admit that we used the vitamin to our advantage, but our overture to the Outside started as a charitable enterprise--”

“And now it’s a criminal one. And you’re the head of this dastardly outfit.” Nora was being purposefully cruel, and Regina could tell. Nora practically hummed with righteous anger. “You’re not the first evil villain I’ve faced.” Regina smarted at the word choice. “But you’re the first to fuck me before the final fight. I'll never forgive you for that.”

Nora spun on her heels; her attempt to flee before her emotions got the best of her. But Regina moved quickly. Placed her body in front of Nora’s, preventing her egress.

“I wasn’t using you,” Regina told her.

“It doesn’t matter anymore," Nora said wearily. "Let me by." And she tried to sidestep the stubborn woman.

Regina refused to move. 

“It _does_ matter. I’m not… _evil_. I wasn’t going to silence you or Mulan.”

“You were going to reprogram her.”

Regina didn’t bother rebutting, and Nora sighed. “Definition of evil.”

Nora slipped past the Overseer; did her best not to touch her. 

“I didn’t want to use the vitamin,” Regina blurted out. And Nora stopped in her tracks. “I didn’t even want to be Overseer.”

Nora turned around. Faced the other woman. Regina’s demeanor had changed. The Overseer stared back at Nora with unguarded eyes, a tortured face.

“I was the vault horticulturist. Growing produce and herbs in the nursery. Surrounded by seeds and muck and happy about it.” Regina attempted a laugh. “Can you imagine me with dirt under my fingernails?”

Nora tilted her head. Thought of a stern-faced Regina in coveralls covered with grime. She would be beautiful. Perhaps smiling.

“I was happy there, but Mother wasn’t satisfied with my station. She had plans for me. _Expectations_. When I don’t meet her expectations…When I’m disobedient, there are consequences.”

Her voice wavered. The red of Daniel’s blood fresh on her mind. His still body.

Nora could see Cora from the corner of her eye. A stoic figure half-hidden in the shadows. A tigress waiting to pounce. She hated herself for it, but Nora retraced her steps. Moved back within Regina’s orbit.

“You know…when I awoke out of a 200-year sleep, the first thought on my mind was finding my son. Nate was already dead. I couldn’t do anything for him. But _Sean_ …I knew he was out there, somewhere, waiting for his mother. I spent months searching for him. Trekking across an unfamiliar landscape, following every lead, searching every corner of this godforsaken desert. And when I finally found him…when I found my baby boy…I realized I hadn’t found him at all. He had changed. Had _been_ changed by this new world.” A hint of wet appeared in Nora’s eyes and her working hand strayed near her breastplate where she kept the remnant of Sean’s baby blanket. “This scrap of fabric is the closest I ever got to my son. For, you see, Sean had expectations for me too. He wanted me to work for him. To head an organization that profited on murder and terrorism, kidnapping and torture. And I was so happy to have my son back…to be near to him after so many years and so much heartache…that I almost said yes. I would have killed for him, non-stop, if it meant not losing him again.” Nora eyes narrowed, the dampness dissipating, suddenly gone. “But I said no. I did _more_ than say no.”

And she thought of the Institute’s final hours. The timed explosions and resulting fire. Dozens of doctors in lab coats, a full of enclave of enterprising scientists, running for the exits as their workrooms disintegrated in ash. A wizened Sean staring back at Nora; a child’s eyes, a stranger’s face.

She went from mother to enemy in seconds. _My baby. Sean._

Nora had lost her son _twice_.

The Outsider shook her head. Tried to clear away unpleasant memory.

“You do the right thing,” she told Regina. Her voice pain-flecked but fierce. “Even when it disappoints the people you love.”

Regina bit into her bottom lip, contemplative. “I can make up for it,” she reasoned.

“You can’t.”

Nora turned for the exit again, but this time Regina gripped her arm. The arm that had lost all feeling. Somehow, Nora managed to feel a curious ache from the press of skin.

Nora wrenched away and Regina let her go.

“I’ll let them leave,” Regina assured, following Nora to the vault door. “Anyone who wants to. Once you’ve gotten Belle and Mulan to safety, you can return to the vault, and I’ll open the door for you. Anyone who wants to leave with you can go.” Regina wet her lips anxiously. “Perhaps there’s even a place for me out there. I’ve never been happy here. I told you about Daniel…about how we attempted to leave.”

That night they’d made love, listened to music, exchanged hurts.

But Nora couldn’t be moved. She shook her head, disbelieving. Still, she found she couldn’t break their eye contact, and she didn’t resist when Regina’s hand moved from her arm and settled on her hip like the precursor to an embrace.

“We’ve erred here, Nora. _Grievously_. But please, give me a chance to make it right.”

Whispered into Nora’s ear until it sounded like a confession. Like a promise.

It was hard for Nora to think with Regina pressed so close to her. With the light of her eyes so mesmerizing; warm tufts of breath tickling her ear.

Nora exhaled; felt something inside her loosen, break way.

“ _No_! I can’t absolve you Regina. I can’t forgive you either.”

And when Nora pulled away this time, Regina let her go. The Overseer appeared crestfallen, but she maintained her straight-back posture. Let her face settle into even lines; emotionless.  

“I will be back though,” Nora told her. As she reached again for her heavy goggles and tugged them on. “And when I return, I’ll do more than kick the vault door.”

Regina was unmoved by the threat. She simply canted her head and stared unblinkingly at Nora; their eye contact muddied by the heavy plastic of Nora’s goggles.

Nora turned towards the vault door. Nodded at Leroy before angling her body towards the sunlight.

“Nora…”

Nora stilled at the sound of Regina’s voice. Another interruption.

“What?” she asked sharply.

“The apple turnover that I gave you the other night? Don’t eat it.”  

Nora turned around, the sunlight streaming around her in waves, making her appear as a shimmer; some vacillating thing; formless.

“What do you mean…‘don’t eat it’?”

“Clearly you haven’t bothered with it, so just throw it away when you get home. Okay?”

Nora snorted. “You hate me that much now that you want to deprive me of a pastry treat?” she asked, incredulous.

“ _No_. Just toss it. It’s probably ruined by now anyway.”

And Regina affected a casual tone, but Nora could sense that something was amiss. Regina’s hands hand had clenched at her sides, were trembling.

Nora stepped towards the Overseer. Her body vibrating with sudden tension.

“How do you know that I haven’t eaten the apple turnover?” Nora asked. Regina stared back at her. Disarmingly quiet. “What did you do, Regina?”  

“Nothing. I’m just trying to save you from eating spoiled food.”

Nora frowned, smelling bullshit. “I’ve eaten my fair amount of irradiated food, so I’m not too worried about mold. Now cut the crap and tell me the truth.”

“Just throw away the turnover,” Regina said through gritted teeth. “ _Please_.”

That sealed it. Nora suddenly felt faint. “What did you do?” Regina looked away but there was a twinge of red to her cheeks. “Tell me!” Nora demanded breathlessly.

“I put one of Whale’s vitamins in the turnover,” Regina admitted.

Nora was so taken aback by the admission that she actually gasped and doubled-over.

“Not a full dose,” Regina clarified quickly. “Just enough so that you would lose your short-term memory and forget Vault 108.”

Nora legitimately thought she might pass out, and Regina hastened to the woman’s side. Reached for Nora in an attempt to comfort but then seemed to think better of it.

“It was just…that night when we argued, you were so suspicious of me and vault operations. You were asking questions… I thought you would figure out what we were doing here with the Outsiders. With the vitamin. I wanted to make sure that you never returned to the vault. That you forgot about this place. Forgot about _me_.” The Overseer had the decency to looked ashamed. “But it was only a small dose, and I figured you wouldn’t eat it until you got home. You would only forget the past few weeks. Not so much that you would be in any danger or lose any memories connected with Sean or Nate…”

Nora had dry-heaved so much that her chest ached from it. There was a tinge of salt and spittle on her bottom lip, and the Outsider wiped a hand across her mouth, tried to stem any emotion or bile that could escape her.

Regina was still talking. “I shouldn’t have done it. I was emotional and overwhelmed and so afraid that you would uncover our scheme, so I acted impulsively.” Regina’s hand hovered above Nora’s back, wanting to land and apologize through touch. “You returned to the vault anyway, so clearly you didn’t eat the turnover. So just throw it away when you get home and perhaps we can work together to figure out how to resolve this--"

“You fucking bitch!!”

And when Nora straightened to her full height, clad in heavy armor, wearing goggles and weapons, Regina was quite certain that the woman would strike her. The Overseer prepared for the blow. Was accustomed to receiving pain as a consequence of failure.

But Nora simply shook her head at Regina—disappointed and hurt and heartbroken—before tottering towards the vault door. Nora was so overcome and weak with emotion that she nearly tripped over Leroy’s box of tools and had to place a hand against the dirt wall to balance herself.

Regina hurried to her side. “I’m sorry Nora. I didn’t do it to hurt you, I promise you. But if you’d found out about us, Mother would have killed you. Like she killed Daniel. I thought I was protecting you.”

Regina didn’t even care that Leroy could hear her; she had to make sure that Nora _understood_.

Nora ignored Regna’s explanation and hurtled towards the vault door, the Outside…

Regina grabbed for the woman and missed. Realizing that she was on the brink of becoming hysterical, Regina stilled herself.  Adopted the well-worn professionalism that had served her for so long.

“I’ll find some way to make it up to you,” she directed to Nora’s retreating back.

Nora paused at the entrance; her face stretched into terrifying contortion as she scowled. “You can never make it up! I gave the apple turnover to Donny. Days ago.” And the rage was quickly replaced with worry. “My god…I have to get to him.”

Nora sprang through the vault door, disappeared into sunlight.

She had to move quickly. _Please let him be there_ , she thought on a loop.

Donny. Another child of hers who could be lost.


End file.
